


The Pitch

by superfluffycool



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-05-27 00:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 25,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15012719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superfluffycool/pseuds/superfluffycool
Summary: What if Jamie was a Scottish footballer and Claire was the team doctor? This is my attempt to answer that question.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is an ongoing AU work that loosely follows the plot of Outlander. Updated whenever I get the chance. You'll know when it's done because I will mark THE END. Apologies for various mistakes in grammar, continuity, and terminology. I'm trying to get the chapters out as quickly as possible which leaves little time for research and proofreading!

People disappear all the time. That’s what I told myself as I pressed “delete” on all my social media accounts. I would erase everything I could of my old life and the person known as “Claire Randall.” That part of me was dead, and I wished to be rid of it forever.

When I packed my bags, I’d no real closure with Frank. He’d refused all my attempts to talk, and broke every promise about seeing a counselor together. Much as I wanted one last look at the place I’d called home for two years, I didn’t turn back. There was nothing left for me here. The job opportunity across the Atlantic was the only thing left to grab on to. Little did I realize that this was the journey that would finally lead me home.


	2. Chapter 2

Monday, 11am. That was my appointment time to meet with the team’s general manager. I’d arrived in Glasgow the night before after a long day of traveling that started in Boston, whisked me to London, and then finally deposited me here, in this small and comfortable room on the edges of the city.

It was only 9am but I couldn’t rest. I’d gotten up an hour earlier, still exhausted, but eager to get ready. I checked my appearance. For the interview, I’d chosen a simple black dress, cotton, but tailored well, and silver jewelry. My wedding band was buried somewhere in my meager belongings, and though I didn’t want to wear it, it’s absence gnawed at me, and I caught myself checking my naked ring finger.

I’d never spent much time fussing over how I looked, but I checked and re-checked myself in the mirror, hoping that several things weren’t obvious on my face - the jet lag, the stress and heartbreak of the past few months. My unruly hair was half pulled back with a clip, and I’d carefully applied my makeup to appear brighter, fresher than I felt.

I’d never been much of a football fan, or what my American friends and soon to be ex-husband would have called, “soccer.” My uncle Lam had enjoyed it, but I preferred my books to the matches he and his friends watched with rapt attention. This made me an odd frontrunner to be the team doctor for a brand new team, but I’d been eager to escape my surroundings, and hopped on the first flight I could find.

There wasn’t much online about the team itself, though I was able to research the man I’d be meeting with - Colum Mackenzie, the team’s General Manager. He’d been a star player in the 80’s and then lost his career after a devastating knee injury. His picture revealed a handsome man with a sharp, yet wise gaze.

I took one last look in the mirror before leaving my room to find a cup of coffee and prepare myself to meet the man nicknamed, “The Laird of the Land.”  
……..

“So, you’ve been in America? How’d you like it?”

This was Colum. He was walking me down the corridor to the team’s offices. He was stocky and fit with keen blue eyes and a pronounced limp. Despite that, it was clear he’d been a competitive player at one point. 

“It was alright. Glad to be home.” 

He chuckled, “I’ve spent some time there myself, but they dinna care for football much. Couldna stay someplace like that for too long.”

He opened the door to a small office, neat and decorated with framed football jerseys. There wasn’t a thing out of place and I wondered if it was so clean because it was the start of the season, or because he’d just moved in. We sat, he at his chair, and myself in one of the stiff seats in front of the desk.

“I’ve no doubt you’ve got the stuff to do the job. You’ve got an impressive education and high marks. What I need to know is if you feel comfortable with the men.”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

“This is, and forgive my language, a cock storm. There’s men running the team, and 23 men on the field. I think it’s beneficial to have women around, in whichever way I can have them. Many women wouldn’t feel comfortable in this environment. Most of the applicants for this job were men.”

He continued, “I understand you’re not much for sports. That’s what Joe told me, and that was one of my favorite things about ye. These boys have spent their whole lives being coddled and told they're God’s gift. I want someone that doesna give a fig about that. They’ll respect you more that way.”

“Noted.” I hadn’t thought of that, but I wasn’t intimidated. My youth was spent living and traveling with my Uncle Lam, a surveyor who loved the outdoors and allowed me to accompany him on his travels. Most of his colleagues and friends were men. The women that peppered his life were practical, hardy, and didn’t put up with any sort of shit. As an adolescent, and an adult, I’d embraced such frivolities as makeup and jewelry, but I still identified with them. They’d shown me that women were more than meek and second place.

He studied me carefully, “Scotland has never had a team in the Premiere League before and I want to get us to that level. I want to be the first. For that to happen, I need the best team on the field and off it. You’d be as much a part of that as any of the players.”

“I’d be honored to be a part of something like this,” and I meant it. It had been a long time since I’d felt as if I’d accomplished anything of importance.

He smiled and cocked his head, “Would ye like to see the pitch, see the team?”

“Yes, I’d like that very much.”

Colum led me down a long corridor that opened to the football pitch. Two lines of men stood behind a tracksuited man crouched on the ground with a mesh bag of footballs at his side. The two men in the front of each line, clad in shorts and cleats, stepped in front of the crouched man and kneeled. The crouched man threw the ball over their heads and once the two kneeling men spotted it, they began running towards it and fighting to keep the other away from it. 

There was some grunting and then the smaller of the two claimed victory and shot it into the goal. The keeper, a lanky man with a shaved head, caught it easily and rolled it back out to tracksuited man.

The smaller man pumped his fist in the air, “I’m comin’ for ye, Mickey.” There was a cacophony of laughs and jeers.

“This is a drill that we have ‘em do to practice good possession. It’s easy for the elbows to fly up,” Colum said into my ear.

“These drills are not something I’m familiar with, but if I must, I will attend practice to learn.”

“Whatever you feel is best, Doctor Beauchamp.”

I watched as another two men stepped forward for the drill. One was short and wide, the other tall and broad shouldered. I thought I saw the shorter one nod at the tracksuited man, but it was so subtle, I wasn’t sure. They each got down on one knee and when the ball flew overhead and into their view, the shorter one drove his shoulder into the taller player’s side, sending him flying and landing on the ground with a thud. 

He groaned and before I could even form a thought, I was running towards him, my sensible heels sinking into the muddy grass.


	3. Chapter 3

No one else was rushing to his side. Behind me I heard, “Oh, c’mon Fraser. It wasna bad, ye puss.” 

The man on the ground must be “Fraser,” I thought. When I reached him he was rolling from side to side, clutching his right shoulder. I could tell he was handsome even with his face contorted in pain. “Are you alright?”

He looked at me, his brows furrowed in confusion, “Who are you?”

“I’m a doctor. I can help.” I knelt down so I could speak with him more intimately.

A hint of a smile crossed his lips, “A doctor? That’s verra lucky for me.” He sat up. “I think it’s my shoulder that’s popped out. It’s happened before.”

“Well, I want to take a look at it first.” I turned to Colum, and he was talking quietly, but heatedly to the man in the tracksuit, “Mr. Mackenzie,” I yelled, “do you have a place for me to examine him - I would prefer to do it in private.”

He nodded and quickly strode over to me, “Or course, doctor. I’ll show you to the medical facilities.” 

My patient carefully got himself up and the three of us made our way down another corridor into a small exam room. The general equipment seemed old, but there was a brand new box of gloves and a first aid kit. The smell of antiseptic hit me, and I was glad to find the facility clean, at the very least.

Colum closed the door behind us and I whirled around, “Mr. Mackenzie, could you step outside for a few minutes? I would like to work with the patient privately.” This surprised him, so I continued, “It is important that the players feel they can speak to me with some confidentiality.” I didn’t think anyone would want their boss watching them receive medical treatment, either, and I was right, Fraser did not object. I sensed some hesitation in Colum so I added, “I promise he’ll give you a full report of my skills afterwards, eh?”

I cocked my head towards my patient and he perked up, “Of course! A full report.” Fraser winked at me and mimicked writing on an invisible pad with his good hand.

Colum didn't exhale, but turned, “Alright, I’ll be in my office. Come and fetch me when yer done.” He looked at Fraser and said, “We need ye well, aye? Do exactly as the doctor tells ye.”

When the door closed, Fraser looked at me. “Are you nervous about this?”

“No, why would I be? I know what I’m doing.” It came out sharper than I’d meant, perhaps because I was a bit nervous, though I couldn't pinpoint why.

“I didna mean to make offense. I mean, I didn’t think you’d want an entire crowd of strangers watching ye.”

“Well I didn’t think you wanted a crowd of your mates watching you scream.”

He stifled a laugh, “Ye think I’m that weak, do ye?”

“I’ve no idea,” I said primly, “but looks can be deceiving.” I stepped closer. He was sweating from the workout on the field, there were a few drops around his temples and below the small auburn ponytail at the base of his neck, but he still smelled fresh, and masculine. I could see the muscles outlined beneath his thin cotton shirt. He turned and looked at me, our faces inches from each other, and my heart started to race. This felt more intimate than my usual work with patients. He sensed my unease and filled the silence.

“So, are ye the new team doctor, then?”

“I’m not sure. Though I seem to be already on the job.”

He smiled, reassuringly,“I’ll tell Colum that you are my first pick.”

“But I haven’t fixed your shoulder yet.”

“It feels better already.”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to smile. He was being friendly, but it also sounded as if he was flirting with me. He probably did this with everyone, I assured myself. He probably had a girlfriend at home, too. How old could he be? I’d find out once I saw his medical chart.

“Alright, on the count of three. One, two…” then I twisted and pushed. The arm popped back into the shoulder socket with ease and Fraser looked at me, his face open and in shock.

“You said count of three.”

“I did it to trick you. Wasn’t it easier this way?”

He nodded, bewildered,“It was. Didna feel it much.” He looked at his shoulder and then back at me. “Thank you. I’m verra lucky you were here, Dcotor…”

“Beauchamp. But you may call me Claire.”

He smiled, “Nice to meet you, Claire. I’m Jamie.” He offered me his left hand to shake.

I blushed, and tried to keep myself from smiling. “Nice to meet you, too Jamie. And you’re very welcome.” But I couldn’t help myself and added, “Make sure to tell your GM that I did a brilliant job.”

“Of course.” He smiled, and I smiled back, unsure of what to say.

Finally, I managed, “Take it easy the rest of the day. Sit out of practice. Ice your shoulder. If the other players or Colum give you a hard time, tell them it’s doctor’s orders.”

“Will do, doctor.” He slid off the exam table and stood, extending his hand. “Thank you again, and I hope ye take the job.” His big hand clasped mine, solid and warm. I felt it spread through my arm and into my shoulders.

“Come,” he said, retrieving his outstretched hand, “I’ll take you back to Colum’s office.”

He led me through a labyrinth of hallways until we were back in front of the spartan office. There was already someone inside, and I could hear shouting - 

“Who’s in charge? You’re always stepping about, sticking yer cock where it don’t belong!”

“Ye want a real team, or an excuse to command yer army?”

Jamie leaned in and whispered, “That’s Dougal Mackenzie, our head coach.”

“Mackenzie? Are they related?”

“They’re brothers.”

Brothers? Running a football team together? This sounded ripe for gossip. “Which one is older?”

“Colum. He’s got the better head, too. Dougal’s always been like this. Never wants to follow orders. It almost ruined his football career.” He looked at me sheepishly, “I’d better go. Dinna want to be caught eavsdroppin’” He smiled, “Hope you’ll stay with us, doctor. Truly.” And he turned and was gone.

I hesitated, unsure of what to do. Should I interrupt the men, or wait for them to finish? Jamie, had said he didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping, and I had to admit I didn’t either. Not when I didn’t have the job, yet.

I took a deep breath and knocked. The voices quieted and I heard “Come in.”

When I opened the door, both Colum and the tracksuited man from the field, Dougal were standing across the desk from each other, trying to appear casual.”Did ye have any trouble findin’ yer way back?”

“No--Jamie, my patient,” I explained to Dougal, “brought me. He was feeling much better after I reset his shoulder and I told him to get some ice and sit out the rest of the day.”

Colum nodded, “Good. We’re going te need him come fall.” I thought I saw Dougal tighten the muscles in his jaw in response. Colum cleared his throat. “Dr. Beauchamp, this is our head coach, Dougal Mackenzie.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Coach.” I extended my hand and and Dougal met it, all the while boring into me with a sharp stare.

“What’s a lass doin’ in this place? Lost yer way?”

“Not at all,” I stiffened, unsure of why he was suspicious where his brother was welcoming.

“Dougal, we’re needin’ a team doctor. We’d be lucky to have someone as qualified as Dr. Beauchamp.” Colum motioned for me to sit down as he lowered himself into his chair. “Ye wasted no time in tending to Jamie earlier, and I liked that. We need someone that takes charge.”

Dougal still hadn’t sat down and was staring down at me in an almost menacing way. I straightened my spine and refused to look away.

“Well, they need more work than they need any doctor. If yer wantin’ a real team that is.” Dougal directed the last bit at his brother. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to be gettin’ back to the pitch. Nice to meet ye, Dr. Beauchamp.” With that, he turned and let the door slam behind him.

“Dinna take offense to him. He’s like that with everyone he’s unfamiliar with. Now, Dr. Beau--”

“Call me Claire. We all know I’m not here to lace up some boots.”

Colum smiled, “Of course." He leaned forward, "Ye know, the job is yours if ye want it. Seasons starts in 6 weeks and I’m eager to get our team in place.”

I was shocked at how quickly this was happening, “Yes, I do want the job. Absolutely.”

Colum extended his hands as if presenting me with the office itself and smiled, “Then welcome to the Glasgow Blackcaps, Claire.”


	4. Chapter 4

Things were moving quickly, and I’d had to put my previous plans on hold to accommodate them. The most pressing one being my plans with Joe Abernathy, my old friend from Uni and the one that had connected me with this opportunity. I’d been planning on traveling back down to London to spend time with him and his husband, but a Skype call would have to do.

“Joe!” I exclaimed when I saw his handsome face appear on my laptop.  
“Claire Bear!” He exclaimed. “You’re incredible! I can’t believe you’ve already gotten the job. You must have worked some impressive magic on them.”

“Well, I think they were in need. It seemed they were in a bit of a crunch.”

“I knew several other chaps that applied, big football fans all, and they didn’t leave their interview with the job in the bag. I’m so proud of you.”

I beamed, “Joe, it was a miracle. I’m so glad you thought of me. I needed to get out of Boston, and this was just what I needed.”

He became more thoughtful, “Claire, I am so sorry about your marriage. You know I support you.”

“I appreciate it, really.” I started to choke up, the pain of the last year bubbling to the surface once again. “Let’s talk about better things,” I chimed. “When are you going to come up to Glasgow for a visit?”

He chuckled, “As soon as Rupert and I can find a free weekend.” He took a sip from the teacup he picked up just to the side of his computer. “Where are you calling from? Is that your new apartment?”

“Oh this?” I gestured to the cozy, yet somewhat worn down room behind me, “No, this is an AirBnB. Not the most modern-looking,” I said, thinking about the faded floral wallpaper and worn down carpets, “But the WiFi is top notch!”

“That’s the most important thing, nowadays, eh?”

I added, “But they’re moving me into a new apartment this Thursday. It’s in a complex where the players are housed.”

“So you’ll have some sexy footballers for neighbors, then? I can’t imagine a better way to heal a broken heart.” Joe wiggled an eyebrow at me.

“Oh stop,” but I did blush a bit, thinking of Jamie Fraser. He had been on my mind since we’d met yesterday. His attention had been flattering, and reassuring. I was only 28, but the past few months had made me feel quite older, and frankly, undesirable. 

“Well, don’t forget to have a little fun while you’re there. This is a new start for you and Glasgow is a lovely little city.” His attention drifted to the side, “Rooney? Come and say hello to your auntie Claire.” Rooney was an adorable mutt that Joe and his partner adopted six or seven years ago. I hadn’t seen him in at least five and was delighted when Joe lifted the small dog up to the camera.  
“Rooney!” I cried. Rooney looked around, confused to hear his name, he’d been shaved down for the spring and looked more odd than usual and I giggled at his appearance. It was so nice to have something of a family here, and my heart swelled with affection for Joe, Rupert, and of course, Rooney. I started to wonder why I’d ever left.  
……..

Earlier in the day, I’d gone in to work and set up my office, filling out various employment forms as well as running inventory, and placing orders for a basic stock of medical supplies. I could hear the players walk past my door during their break and caught several accents and even a lick of French among them. I’d incorrectly believed that all the players would be Scottish, but I supposed Jamie Fraser was one of the few ‘homegrown boys’ to wear the Blackcap’s team sweater.

I wanted to check on his shoulder, but I hesitated, unsure if I should walk out and summon him. Something about it made me feel too much like a schoolmarm, removing a problem student from class. I focused on the clerical tasks instead, and promised to ask Colum to send Jamie Fraser to see me the next day.

Several of the players were speaking and the sound carried down the hallway. I heard, “Aye, lasses canna resist a braw footie player. They were all on us when I told them.” Another voice, this one with an English accent, “But Scottish women can be rough, ya? Just ask Fraser about his girlfriend.”

I froze and strained to hear more, getting up and opening the door a crack to see and hear better, but the group had roared with laughter and I couldn’t make out anything. All I saw was Jamie shake his head and leave the other players to their rambunctious conversation. 

So Jamie had a girlfriend? I’d suspected that. A good looking, professional footballer had to have women throwing themselves at him. A charming one probably juggled several at once, I mused, happy bask in my cynicism. I was a soon to be divorced woman. I’d earned the right.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel a tiny crack of disappointment.


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, I arrived in my office at 8, hot takeaway coffee in hand. My plans for the day were to go over each player’s file, at least briefly, so that I could be more familiar with them. It wasn’t necessary, but coming into this environment so fresh, I thought it might be useful in building trusting relationships.

Just as I was settling in, there was a light tap on my door. “Come in,” I called. Jamie Fraser opened it, tentatively.

“I hope I’m not disturbin ye, doctor, but Colum said ye wanted to check my shoulder.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Come in.” I moved the pile of papers from my lap onto the desk and stood. “If everything feels fine, we can work here, we don’t need to go to the exam room.”

“It feels good. Ye did excellent work.” He winked at me.

Knowing that he had a girlfriend, I ignored it. He seemed to have already come from a workout, his thin t-shirt dotted with patches of sweat.

“Started practicing already?” I asked, while gently rotating his shoulder.

“Aye, well. It’s conditioning. We run in the morning when it’s cooler. Save the drills and such for later.” Of course, I should have noticed he was wearing trainers instead of boots, and no shin guards. The muscles in his legs were long and solid, and I could see almost every inch of them before they disappeared under his black shorts.

“I see. I’ll have to ask Coach Mackenzie for a look at your workouts. The whole team’s workouts, not specifically your workouts. I imagine they’re all very similar.” I was rambling, trying not to look at the muscles in his thighs.

“Where are you staying, now? Do ye live nearby?”

“I’m in an AirBnB until tomorrow. Then I’ll be moving in to The Stone Towers.”

He perked up, “So you’ll be livin’ with us, then! Maybe we’ll be neighbors.”

Before I could respond, there was a knock on the door, this time more forceful, and it opened immediately. Dougal was standing there, an aura of impatience encircling him.

“Are ye nearly done? Practice is about to start.”

“Yes, we’re almost done.” I assured him.

“Good. Maybe then yer throw-ins won’t look like the dung they did yesterday.”  
My head snapped toward Jamie. Throw ins? He’d been practicing throw ins yesterday? “Did I not tell you to rest your shoulder?”

“Aye...the day I injured it.” He seemed amused rather than apologetic.

“Are you that bloody stupid not to check with me first?” I turned to Dougal. “Why didn’t anyone ask me if it was okay?”

Dougal smiled, “I did ask the lad if he was cleared to do every drill and he said he was. I’m no in the business of forcing my players to practice through injuries.”

I looked back at Jamie. He was still wearing a smile, a somewhat sheepish one, and I decided I would wipe it off his face. “If you want to ride the bench for the rest of the season, then you can do whatever the fuck you please, but if you want to actually play you’ll listen to me. Check in with me. The doctor. You’re not bloody Achilles and you can hurt yourself beyond repair.”

Silence. Dougal looked at me and for the first time, it was with respect. He cleared his throat, “Well, doctor. Ye let me know if he’s cleared. I trust yer judgment on the matter.” To Jamie he said, “I’ll see ye out there in 5.” He nodded at me and shut the door behind himself.

Jamie didn’t look as ashamed as I expected, he seemed to have a twinkle in his eyes. “I didna think ye had such a mouth on ye.”

“And how would you know?” I snapped. I moved away from the desk where he was perched, giving him space to stand.

His eyes were still twinkling, “Ye havna met the rest of the team, but, well, I think you’ll fit right in.”

I relaxed, understanding that he wasn’t mocking me, but rather complimenting me. And maybe flirting with me? No. I had to remind myself that the team didn’t know me, and that I did have to earn their respect.

“Well, I look forward to meeting the whole gang of hooligans. I believe team physicals are on Friday.”

“Aye, they are. But if yer moving in to The Stone Towers tomorrow, ye might meet a few of ‘em sooner.” He paused before exiting, “So, can I practice throw ins today.” He looked like he was asking permission to do something naughty, and I was more than happy to shoot back.

“No.” 

He nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips, “Just thought I’d check.” Then he turned and closed the door behind him.

Later that night, I dreamed I was making love. I awoke sweaty and satisfied, the dawn still far off. I’d removed my pajama top and tossed on the downtrodden carpet surrounding my bed, as if I’d been going through the same motions I’d done in my dream. I couldn’t make out a face, but I knew exactly whom I’d been with - one tall, red-headed footballer named Jamie Fraser.

‘Get a grip, Beauchamp,’ I told myself. If I craved carnal pleasure, surely I could find it elsewhere. Glasgow was a big city. I promised myself that this weekend, I’d dive head first into the little Scottish city’s dating pool.


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, I brought all my suitcases to work. Afterwards, I would “move in” to my new flat. It felt odd. I hadn’t lived alone, ever. All through school and through my residency, I’d shared flats with fellow students and young doctors. I’d left everything in Boston. My only belongings were several electronic devices packed to the brim with photos and books, and a very basic wardrobe. That was something I’d have to fix. I looked down at my outfit - a white short-sleeved sweater and a navy blue pencil skirt with sensible heels. It was fine, but I’d need some fun pieces if I was to be hitting the dating scene, again. It felt like the whole world was suddenly pressing down on me.

It was overwhelming, and I was glad to be interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Dougal, and a woman that was, in a word, sex. She was about my age and wore a tight-fitting red dress and heels, her strawberry blonde hair perfectly tousled as if she’d just emerged from a round in the sack.

“Good Morin’, doctor.” Said Dougal. “I wanted ye to meet one of the other women we’ve got on the Blackcap’s staff. This is Gillian. She’s my assistant.”

“Lovely to meet ye, Doctor Beauchamp,” she purred. Everything about this woman was seductive, and it made me put my guard up.

“Lovely to meet you, as well.” We shook hands and I noted her long, manicured nails. “So are you a big football fan?” I felt the need to take charge of the conversation.

“Aye, and a big fan of the footballers as well.” She glanced over to Dougal. “I understand yer not much into the game, but maybe something else brought you to us.”

I was ready to take offense, though I wasn’t quite sure what she was implying, but she glanced at Dougal again, and I dropped it. This conversation wasn’t entirely about me. I was an interloper. I’d best be on my guard until I could make out what exactly was going on.

Dougal glanced at me, “Ye’ll be wanting to chat with Gillian, I’m sure. She’ll give ye the rundown on everything. And she’ll be needin’ a bio for ye. For the press release.”

“Press release? Why do you need to mention me in a press release?” 

Gillian winked, “Havin’ a Cambridge-educated physician is somethin’ we’d like to be braggin’ about. It makes the team look good.”

“Oh, well, if it helps the team.” I condeced. I was reluctant to announce myself publicly as I was going by Dr. Beauchamp, but my legal name was still “Randall”. That could be settled without Frank’s cooperation, at least. I mentally added it to my long to-do list.

Dougal cleared his throat, “Practice is about to start. If yer not busy, why don’t ye come and watch a bit.” This was an invitation, from Dougal of all people. I was allowed to do as I pleased, but I was still delighted at the offer. Perhaps Dougal was warming up to me.

“Oh please come,” added Gillian. “We’ll get to chat some more!”

“Alright. I suppose this paperwork can wait a bit.” I grabbed my sunglasses and followed Dougal and Gillian out towards the pitch. We walked in silence. The only sounds the clap clap clap of Gillian’s thin heels on the linoleum floor.  
…..

The players were running a lap around the field and Dougal called them in. Gillian and I took a seat on the bleachers. It was a beautiful late spring day, and they were thankfully dry. 

Dougal yelled, “Start stretchin’ out while I go over some things with ye.” The group obeyed, all of them quiet and not in the least bit out of breath. It reminded me of the exercise routine I’d abandoned about a month ago when I couldn’t find the energy to shower, let alone hit the gym. Another thing to look into, I thought with a sigh. “First, I’d like to introduce ye to the Team Doctor, Dr. Beauchamp. Some of ye have already had the pleasure of her acquaintance.” He turned his head towards Jamie and he waved at me, with his uninjured arm, I noted. “Ye’ll have team physicals tomorrow. So do what Dr. Beauchamp asks. And do what she says. We’ll need ye lot healthy, aye.”

“Aye, coach.” 

Then one called out “Can’t wait to play doctor with you.” He was a handsome player, cocky. In fact, he was squatting on the ground pushing his knees out with his elbows, which only emphasized the size of his family jewels. I tightened my jaw. Just wait until he comes into my exam room. I’m going to insist on taking his temperature rectally.

A quiet, but pointed murmur, “Leave her alone.” It was Jamie, reprimanding his teammate for being an ass. I blushed. I also noticed Jamie sat off to the side with two other players, still part of the team, but noticeably separate. The gross comment had come from the larger group.

The gross player seemed about to say something but Dougal stopped him, “Enough, Mickey. Show her some respect. Now, in other business…”

Gillian leaned over to me, “That one is a nightmare. He’s got talent, but off the field he’s always gettin’ into trouble. Dougal needs him to focus, and not end up bringin’ bad publicity.”

“That doesn’t surprise me.” I replied. Of course the star player would think he was exempt from the rules. I’d have to watch out for him.

“You’ve impressed Jamie, I see. He was talking about ye to Dougal. And Colum. I think he likes ye.” She looked at me conspiratorially.

“Well, that doesn’t matter.” I blurted. “He’s my patient. That’s against the rules. And doesn’t he have a girlfriend?”

Gillian chuckled, “He’s not yer patient. There’s no rules against fraternizing with the players.” And, she seemed to stifle an even bigger laugh, “you need to ask him for the story about that girlfriend.”

Not wanting to continue this line of conversation, I moved it along, “I’m actually looking elsewhere. This is a big city, isn’t it?”

Gillian rolled her eyes, “Not big enough, but it has options. Are ye on Tindr?”

“Tindr? Isn’t that for...for one-night-stands?” 

“Yes, and no. I think the sex is fairly important. Ye want to make sure that’s compatible before anything else is.” She wasn’t looking at me when she said this, and I thought her mind must be on a particularly fellow with whom she was very compatible.

“Well, I’ll consider it.” Some of the players took their shirts off, including Jamie. I tried not to stare but he was a sight to behold. His broad shoulders tapered down into a narrow waist, his strong chest was lightly dusted with auburn curls. He turned and caught me looking at him and smiled.

“They’re so fit, aren’t they?,” mused Gillian, dreamily. Jamie bent down and retrieved a bottle of water from a small bag on the side of the field. A few other players were doing the same. He took a few gulps, then squirted it on to his face and body, shaking the excess from his hair.

It was like watching some ad for cologne, and I gritted my teeth. This was not the best use of my time. “I’ve got to get back to work, but let’s chat some more later”

“Of course,” Gillian purred. We exchanged numbers and I turned my back on the small army of shirtless men.


	7. Chapter 7

Around 5, I arrived at The Stone Towers, two somewhat dated looking buildings several stories tall, and found my apartment. It was perfectly clean and stocked with the basics, but it’s emptiness reminded me of how alone I suddenly was. New city, and new job, but no husband, and no friends nearby. I closed the door, sat down at my new kitchen table, and sobbed.

I didn’t know how long I cried, but I decided to stop. There were things to be done, like finding food. I needed dinner, and some items to stock the empty fridge. Also, wine. That would be a necessity this evening.

Before leaving I checked to make sure my face wasn’t too smudged, and stepped out into the beautiful evening. Google Maps directed me to a nearby market and I filled a small basket with bread, eggs, butter, cheese, a tin of beans, and a bottle of discounted pinot grigio. I was happy not to run into any of the players, who surly shopped here when they weren’t practicing or causing trouble. It was inevitable that would happen sometime, but I didn’t want it to happen tonight, when I felt so unmoored by all the changes happening in my life.

I went home, (home!) and unpacked my purchases. Using the pan, I toasted the bread and had a simple dinner of beans on toast with a wine pairing. Thank God the apartment came equipped with a corkscrew, I thought. Scotland was still part of the UK after all.

Feeling suddenly merry and full, I pushed aside my plans of diving into the latest medical journal, and decided to download the Tindr app. ‘Fortune favors the brave,’ I reminded myself as I watched the spin of the tiny rainbow wheel.

It asked if I wished to connect with my Facebook profile. I clicked “No” as I’d done away with mine before leaving Boston. It asked for a username. I went with “Claire_Bear1810”, my nickname and my birthday. Then it asked for a picture. My merriment sagged. I didn’t have any pictures that were particularly sexy or seductive. I scanned through my digital photo albums until I found one where I at least looked happy...and my breasts looked good. The picture was from when I first moved to Boston and I was so excited to start married life. I hadn’t been that happy since, but I still looked the same. I glanced down. My breasts were still quite full, though I’d dropped some unnecessary weight from the stress of my marriage. The pic was old, but honest, I concluded. I hit “select” and started scrolling. 

There were some attractive men, and some not attractive men. I swiped right on several profiles including a handsome professor with a mane of salt and pepper hair that lived only a mile away. The next profile made my stomach drop. It was Mickey, the asshole player who wanted to “play doctor.” If he turned up, that meant the other players would likely turn up as well, after all, we lived close to each other *in the same building*. “Fuck!” I yelled.

I hoped no one heard me. I closed the app and readied myself for bed having already discovered how big a city Glasgow was not.


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning I arrived bright and early. The first round of players were getting their physicals today, and I wanted to make sure everything was ready. Colum had emailed me to let me know he’d hired a nurse to take blood from each player, closing it with “If we left it up to them, they’d never get near a medic.” I snorted at that. The men who put on the toughest fronts usually balked at the smallest threat of pain.

The supplies I’d ordered were waiting for me - gloves, lozenges, sterilizing wipes. I’d the good sense to buy a large coffee from the nearest shop, and savored the hot, bitter liquid as I sat in the exam room and looked over the list of eleven players I had appointments with today. Mickey was there, as I assumed the only “Michael” on the team referred to him. I’d considered deleting the Tindr app after realizing I’d run into the players on it, but decided against it. I was an adult woman, after all. If they were going to be stupid and inappropriate about it, then it was on them. I’d nothing to hide.

Jamie Fraser was not on my list. He’d be coming in tomorrow. I wasn’t sure if I was glad of it or not.

There was a quick, forceful knock. “Halloo? Doctor?”

“Yes, I’m Dr. Beauchamp.” I stood.

“Good morning, to ye. I’m Nurse McIver. I’ll be doin’ the blood work for ye.” She was an older woman, probably close to retirement age with a springy cropped haircut and stout figure. She had the wonderful mixture of nurturance and iron will that the best nurses always had.

“I’m pleased to meet you.” 

She had brought her own kit with her in a large rolling suitcase and only needed some gloves and sterile wipes. The room next to the exam room was empty, so she set up her station there. It was now 9am, and the first of my appointments was about to arrive.  
……….

It was now 2pm and I was starving. I’d done full physicals on six players, all of them polite and even a bit shy outside the protection of the group. Mickey seemed to be the most brash of the lot, and a probably goaded the others into worse behavior than they would otherwise. 

I ventured down towards the cafeteria to grab some lunch and return to my office when I heard arguing.

“It’s no about him. Ye undermine me every chance ye get!”

“Because yer not the manager! If ye want to be in charge of the whole lot of runnin’ a team, then go start yer own. Ye dinna want to admit it, but he’s and the rest of ‘em doin’ better than ye thought, aye?”

I stepped back, not wanting to interrupt and went the long way to the cafeteria.

Many of the players were finishing up their lunch, watching TV, or playing on their phones. I ordered a small roll with chicken curry and decided to check my personal email while I waited. It was an awful decision. There was an email from Frank in my inbox. 

Instead of a long, vitriolic missive, it was loving and tender. He said he missed me and he couldn’t sleep since I’d left. He wanted me to come home and said he had made arrangements for couple’s counseling with a Dr. Berman. He’d even started seeing him one on one. He’d done it as soon as I said I planned on returning to the UK.

I started to cry. This same email would have made me overwhelmingly happy had I gotten it six months ago. Now, it made me feel unspeakably sad. My eyes filled with tears and I stifled a sob.

“Are ye alright, love?” Asked the woman at the register.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I lied. “It’s nothing.” I paid for my sandwich and hurried back to the refuge of my office.  
…….

The next crop of players would start coming in soon, but I couldn’t force myself to eat. I left the sandwich, nearly untouched in my office and made my way down to the exam room. I was surprised to find Jamie Fraser waiting for me.

“Jamie, what are you doing here? You’re not on my schedule for today.”

“I traded spots. I wanted ye to take a look at my shoulder. It feels much better.” He gave me a half smile.

He waited until I’d closed the door and then he took off his shirt, “Jamie, you don’t need to be--”

“But I want to show ye, it’s no swollen.” There he was, in all his glory again. His skin had a golden hue and I could see the light tan on his neck and forearms where the sun had hit him. 

I stepped forward and rotated the shoulder a bit, then stood on my toes to bring his forearm over his head. “How does that feel?” His face was close to mine and I could smell that he’d just showered.

“It feels grand.” He was looking at me with a steady interest. It made my pulse race.

“All right, you are cleared to do throw-ins. It’s official.” I added, quickly.

“Brilliant! Thank ye.” He put his shirt back on and looked at me expectantly. I had turned away, trying to hide the flush on my cheeks. It was Frank’s email, the new apartment. They had brought all my emotions to the surface and I no longer had the strength to hid them. Now, the excitement I felt in Jamie’s presence was plain on my face. “Are ye alright, doctor?”

I turned, “It’s nothing--” and I tried to come up with something, but faltered. “It’s, it’s--I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed is all.” As soon as I said it, tears started to fill my eyes. Jamie got up from the table and hugged me.

“There, there. Don’t cry. Yer doin’ great. It wasna one of other the players upsettin' ye, was it?”

He felt so solid and warm that I relaxed into his embrace and sighed. “No, it wasn’t.”

“If ye need anything. Ye can always ring me. We’re neighbors.” He stroked my back. 

I pulled away, “Won’t your girlfriend be upset?” My emphasis landed on the word “girlfriend” and he jerked back as if I’d shocked him.

“Who told ye about that?”

“That? Not “her”? I was suddenly furious on her behalf.

“No! No, it’s no like that!” He stepped forward. “It’s embarrassing, aye?”

“You’re embarrassed? To have a girlfriend?”

He calmed, “I dinna think we’re talking about the same thing.”

I’d stopped crying and looked at him, “Maybe we’re not?”

“What did ye hear?” He sat back down on the exam table and I sat on the stool in front of him.

“I heard some players making fun of you about your girlfriend. And how Scottish women were rough.”

He tightened his jaw, “I don’t have a girlfriend. I well, I will tell ye the story. Here’s no the place, aye?”

I was suddenly elated, “You don’t have a girlfriend?””

“No.” And he added, “Let’s grab a drink. I’ll explain.”

“Yes. I would like that.”

He relaxed, and smiled, “Grand. How about after we’re finished today?”

“Perfect.” I smiled back.

I gave him his physical and despite my desire to remain professional, Jamie kept making me giggle with little jokes. When it came time for the hernia test, his joking stopped and he tensed. I shared his discomfort. There was no way for me to do it correctly without feeling some of the contours of his most sensitive appendage. I blushed, and I thought I saw Jamie turn a bit red as well.

I was eager for our drink later.


	9. Chapter 9

The rest of the afternoon was agonizingly slow. I couldn’t wait for the day to be finished so I could meet Jamie for a drink and hear more about his mysterious girlfriend situation. I’d checked with him to see which player he’d traded places with, and he confirmed it was a one Duncan Bronson, one of his best mates on the team. I crossed his name out on my list for the day and added it to tomorrow’s crop. The one I didn’t see was Mickey, despite his name being on today’s list. I waited in the exam room and fussed about my appearance, using my phone’s camera to check my hair and make mental notes of which makeup to retouch once I was back in my office. 

5pm came and went, so I sent Mickey an email letting him know he’d missed his appointment and to come in tomorrow before 10am. I shut off the lights and closed the door to the exam room, eager to put the work day behind me.

Jamie was waiting for me in front of my office, his hair damp and loose, and wearing a dark blue loose-fitting short-sleeved henly and jeans. How many changes of clothing did he keep in his locker?, I wondered. “Jamie, you’re earlier than I expected.”

“I told Dougal I had a doctor’s appointment, and he let me out early.”

I giggled, “Another one? You already saw one doctor today.”

“I’m just jokin’. Dougal said we were allowed to leave as soon as someone scored off a volley.”

“And someone did?”

“Aye. I was verra eager to be done. It helped me aim.” He smiled at me and though I didn’t know what a volley was, I felt warm from my head down to my toes.

If I had known I was going on a sort of date later, I’d have dressed a bit sexier for work. Today I’d put on my navy blue pencil skirt and a light blue, loose fitting top. Instead of the conservative, sensible heels I’d worn for my interview, I’d gone with a more casual pair of sling-backs with a kitten heel, which I was especially grateful for in hindsight. 

“Let me grab my things.” I retrieved my purse and before rejoining Jamie, I applied some powder to my nose, a fresh coat of lipstick, and made sure there were no stray curls poking out from the braid I'd worn my hair in. I closed the door and faced Jamie. He smelled of cologne. Almost too strongly. He must have put on a lot, I thought. And for what? For me? I felt my breath catch. I was excited but also nervous. I hadn’t been on a date since I’d met Frank six years ago. Jamie cocked his head and I decided to be brave and follow him.

…..

We sat at the end of a worn, but clean bar playing the Arctic Monkeys at a reasonable decibel. The place was called Toland’s and it was only a quick cab ride from the practice facility, and only a few blocks from The Stone Towers. We settled in and ordered drinks - whiskey for him, and a rosé for myself. We faced each other.

I started, “So, your girlfriend story.”

He flushed, “I’ll never live it down. The fellas willna drop it.” He proceeded to tell me the whole thing, pausing only to thank the bartender for dropping off our drinks, and then to sip from his glass for sustenance. He’d had a girlfriend, Leigh. They’d been together since they were fourteen. Their relationship survived secondary school and Uni though there were many rocky patches. One night, after a particularly bad fight, she’d attacked him with a knife. He tried to talk her down but she’d chased him through his apartment. The ruckus was so loud that their neighbors called the police and she was charged with assault. Jamie asked that the charges be dropped, but the story still made the papers. All of it happened over a year ago and it was a source of amusement for the other players, the ones that weren’t his chums. They called him “hen-stabbed” and often asked if he only kept butter knives in his apartment.

“That’s awful. I’m so sorry.”

He sighed, “I’m fine.” He looked sad, though I couldn’t tell if it was the jokes that bothered him, or talking about the end of his relationship.

I suddenly wanted to comfort him, “Have you spoken to her since?”

“Aye, but only in text or email. I didna want to see her. That was the last bit for me. I knew it wasna going to work out, but I wanted it to. For a long time I couldn’t bear the thought of losin’ this relationship that had been there for so long. It took that, her tryin te kill me, to jolt me out of that.”

“Oh Jamie, I’m so, so sorry.” I put my hand on his bare forearm and squeezed it. “I have dealt with a similar situation.” I quickly added, “My ex-husband never attacked me, but I felt unable to walk away because I’d invested so much. It’s hard to let go. To believe you’ll find something--someone better.”

We looked at each other. He swallowed and spoke, “There’s so much I’ve missed. I only had her, Leigh, in my life for so long that I dinna have a lot of experience…”

“I understand. I’m single again for the first time in years and I forget how to do everything. Or how to navigate in the world.”

He shook his head, “It’s no just that, it’s--”, he took a deep breath. “Yer a doctor, so I feel I can speak more plain.”

I was getting a bit nervous but I squeezed his forearm and said, “Of course, anything you say to me stays between us.”

“Maybe ye’ll understand, too? Because ye know the body so well.”

“Yes, perhaps--” What could he be so worried about? Did he have some awful sexually transmitted disease? Some freakish problem that wasn’t mentioned in his medical chart?

“Leigh never liked it--sex. She put up with it, let me, but I could tell she didna like it. I did what I could, but--I was worrit there was somethin’ wrong with me.”

He looked so sad and ashamed that it brought tears to my eyes. I didn’t let them fall, I didn’t want him to feel pitied. “Jamie, sex is often very complicated. It could be any number of things, many of them psychological rather than biological.”

“Aye, I read about that, but is there no way to fix it? I couldna begin to, well - I dinna want to be with someone who only tolerates me. Ye ken what I mean?”

“Of course I do.” I sat forward on the bar stool. “Communication is the most important thing. To talk with your partner and listen. Go slowly and pay attention.”

He snapped his head up, “So, it’s no normal?”

“What?”

“For women to no like it?”

“Of course not! Women enjoy sex just as much as men!”

He sighed, “It’s so hard to tell, aye. The way most of the men talk, it’s as if they didna care if the woman likes it or not. I’ve watched videos and such where it looks like the woman likes it, but they’re no real.”

I inched closer and ran my fingers down the sensitive skin on the inside of his forearm, “Jamie, I can assure you that women enjoy sex just as much as men.” 

He inched closer, too. “Is that so?” 

He looked down at my lips and suddenly we were kissing. It was slow, tentative. His fingertips grazed the vertebrae at the back of my neck and I fingered the collar of his shirt. Time seemed to stop and I couldn’t tell how long we spent in gentle exploration.

His tongue brushed my lower lip and I grabbed the hair at the back of his neck, urging him for more. He stifled a groan, “Doctor, I mean--”

I started giggling, “Claire.”

He chuckled, “Sorry. Claire. I really like ye.”

I placed my hand on his shoulder and drew it down his chest, “I like you, too.”

This was not a smart decision, it was a purely selfish one. Despite his complete candidness, I had not told him that I was still technically married, or that I had reservations about getting involved with a quasi-patient. Instead, I brushed my lips against his ear and whispered, “Your place, or mine?”


	10. Chapter 10

His eyes widened, “Claire, I canna--I couldna…”

I shot back, “Why not?!”

“I havna bought ye dinner! Taken ye on a proper date! We’ve no commitment to each--”

I was angry and bit offended, “It’s the 21st century, Jamie! Not the 18th! A woman doesn’t need--”

“Yes! I know! It’s just that, I’d feel better about it, aye? To know ye more, and--and do things properly.”

I sighed, understanding that he was probably nervous. “You could buy me dinner, now. And we could talk more.”

He brushed my cheek with his knuckles, “I’d like that verra much.” 

He suggested a Thai place nearby and after we settled in and placed our orders, he asked, “What happened with yer ex-husband? What was his name?”

I didn’t want to talk about it, but realized I had to offer him something after he’d been so open with me. “His name was Frank.”

Jamie waited for me to continue and when I didn’t, he prodded, “Were ye ever happy with him?”

I sighed, “Not really. But it wasn’t obvious. Not until I’d looked back. We spent most of our time apart until we got married. That was when I realized how incompatible we were.” I thought back to the older professor I’d liked on Tindr, how he was the same “type” as Frank and that I’d almost fallen into the same old pattern. Though I was now sitting opposite a man that couldn’t be more different than Frank, it was the better choice. Jamie had just turned 24 three weeks ago - I’d remembered from his medical chart. There were moments when he seemed barely 24, and others when he seemed wiser, more worldly than his years. Perhaps this was perfect. Having dinner gave me the opportunity to discover what kind of man he really was.

“I’m verra sorry, Claire.”

“It’s still difficult to talk about.” I gave him an apologetic smile, hoping he wouldn’t prod me further.

He reached across the table and squeezed my hand, “Let’s talk about somethin’ else, aye? Did ye always want to be a doctor?”

The meal was spent exchanging histories and childhood adventures. I told him I’d grown up traveling around with my Uncle Lam after losing my parents, and that I’d always wanted to be a doctor, but I’d never thought of being one for a professional football team. Jamie confided that he grew up in a small town near Inverness, and had lost his mother when he was small. He didn’t want to spend much time talking about it and quickly changed the subject to the year he spent playing with a French team after his breakup. He was fluent in the language, “Madame, vous êtes très belle.”

I giggled, “Merci beaucoup.”

“You’ve a lovely laugh. I didna expect it. Ye seemed so serious when I first met ye.”

I hit him playfully, “Well, I was trying to get a job, and fix your shoulder. It wasn’t the time to laugh.”

“Well, I like hearin’ it.” We’d finished our food and were merely postponing the inevitable.

“Are you ready to head back?”, I said with a little smile.

He took a deep breath and smiled back, “Aye, I think so.”

Jamie paid for our meal and we left the restaurant hand in hand with our fingers entwined.  
……….

“Should we just get undressed, then?” Jamie and I were in his apartment, his bedroom, and he was speaking fast, unsure of what to do. He’d insisted on his place because he had a proper supply of alcohol and not a just a half drunk bottle of pinot grigio in his fridge. We’d already downed shots of some sort of whiskey and he had run out of methods of postponement.

I moved towards him, first pulling my hair out of the braid and then wrapping my hands around his neck, “Yes, but it’s not just undressing. It’s how you undress.” I went up on my toes and kissed him, softly at first, and then more aggressively. I bit his lip and he inhaled sharply. “Was that alright?”

“Aye, I just wasna expectin’ it.” He was panting, now and I decided we were ready to move to the next stage.

I snaked my hands under his shirt and made to pull it over his head. “If I’m too rough, just tell me.”

“Too rough?” He chuckled, “But yer so small.”

“Well…” His shirt was off now and I lowered my head to kiss his sculpted chest and bite his nipple.

He inhaled sharply, “I see...what ye mean.”

I paused, “Was that too much, or did you like it?”

His hands traveled down and grabbed my buttocks, “No, I liked it.”

He started to pull my shirt over my head and I paused my ministrations to allow it. “Good. Because I like it a bit rough as well, “ I whispered as I dragged my fingernails down his ribcage.

I pushed him down onto the bed and removed my pencil skirt, then his pants. His excitement for the business at hand made it somewhat difficult.

He tried to sit up, “I dinna want to just lay here.”

I kissed him, then pushed him back down, “Just relax.” I was surprised to discover he wore briefs, but then more surprised to see that his physical perfection extended to his most private parts. I took him in, his whole glorious naked figure, before eagerly bending down to kiss him from his lips all the way down his torso. 

When I reached his belly button, he protested, “Claire--”

“Shhh--” I pushed him back down with the palm of my hand, then knelt before him and took him in my mouth. He tensed at first, but then slowly relaxed, placing a hand on my head. His hips and chest rose in rhythm to my own movements, some of them rough. Eventually his panting broke into moans and he cried out something completely unintelligible.

I climbed up and lay next to him. “Oh God, Claire.” He pulled my face to his and pressed his forehead to mine. “I didna want ye to do that. I know women dinna like it. But I’m grateful to ye.”

I dragged my finger down his neck, “That’s not true. Women may not get physical pleasure from it, but I get a lot of pleasure seeing you...enjoy what I’m doing.”

He nodded, understanding my point. “Is it my turn, now? To do that to you?”

“We’ll get to that.” I’d deliberately given him his release first, hoping he’d be slightly more patient if he was somewhat satiated. “For now, we’ll start with the fingers…”

I explained that some women can achieve orgasm from intercourse alone, but many cannot. “What do men do then?”

“They make sure to stimulate the clitoris, plenty.” Then I added, “But you have to use a very light touch at first. It’s very sensitive.”

He nodded again, “Can I try it?”

“Of course,” I started to unhook my bra but Jamie rushed to do it.

“Let me, a neighan.”

“A knee-an? That’s not French.”

He scooched towards me on the bed and kissed me, “No, it’s Gaelic. I speak that, too.” He gave me no time to be impressed. He unhooked my bra and his eyes traveled down, “Yer so beautiful,” he breathed.

Before I could offer more instruction, he placed his face between my breasts, kissing and suckling them as if in worship. I arched my back. He was more skilled at lovemaking than I’d expected, given what he’d told me. 

He braced himself above me with one arm, then removed my panties with the other. “Tell me straight if ye dinna like what I’m doing, aye?”

“Yes, I will.” I was eager for him to start. He tentatively placed a finger between my legs and I arched my back, encouraging him. He moved it up and down, and I sucked in my breath. 

“That’s it?” He looked at me for reassurance. 

“Well, for now. Keep doing it.”

He continued and paused when I grabbed him by the hair and cried out. “Are ye alright, Claire?!”

“Yes-yes. That means I like it.” I added, “But keep going! You can put your fingers inside, too. It’s better for the woman to have stimulation on the inside and outside.” He nodded and I noticed that he was aroused again.

He followed my instructions, inserting two fingers and then continuing his attentions on the sensitive bulb. I went over the edge quickly after that, crying out and spasming around his fingers. “Jamie,” I panted. “I want you inside me.”

He quickly obliged, sheathing himself between my legs, and driving himself inside me over and over. “Claire...Claire…” I went over the edge a second time, and he followed me shortly after, still repeating my name.

We lay side by side, catching our breaths. He turned to me, “Did ye like it?”

I smiled, “What do you think?”


	11. Chapter 11

We laid in bed for awhile after that, side by side and naked in drowsy conversation. The open windows letting in the cool night air and bringing us closer for warmth.

“Ye’ve no idea how relieved I am.”

“Relieved?,” I asked. “Did you really think there was something wrong with you?”

He looked away, “I did. I went out with several women after me and Leigh broke up, and it was all I could think about. If they’d be understandin’ and quiet about it.”

I stroked his face, “Most men don’t care.”

He snorted, “I think that’s what they say. In the locker room, or with ther friends. But it bothers ‘em.” He swallowed, “Did ye have to teach the other men ye’ve been with about...this? How to do it?”

“Most men don’t want instruction,” I said dryly.

He looked sad, “And yer ex-husband?”

I sighed, finally willing to confide a few things, “We weren’t intimate. Towards the end. Before that, we had good sex, but no, he didn’t want instruction. Or to do certain things.”

“Like what?” He was suddenly alert.

“Like what I did for you. He would do it, but I always had to ask. I could tell he didn’t enjoy it, which made me not enjoy it. We have that in common.” I smiled ruefully.

He rose onto his forearms, “Claire, I want te. Verra much.”

His offer was every woman’s dream and it made me suddenly shy. The intimacy of the act, with this man I’d known less than a week, frightened me. I deflected, “I promise, we’ll get to that. Another time.” I kissed him in reassurance.

“Alright, mebbe tomorrow, then?” He grinned then rose and left the room, giving me a perfect view of his pale bum. He returned with two empty glasses and a pitcher of water. He poured me a glass and handed it to me. “Did ye like the whiskey from earlier?”

“I did, though I don’t know much about whiskey, I’m afraid.” 

“That’ll change. I’ll introduce ye to the best. Scotland has some of the finest in the world.” He went on to tell me about the courses and tours he’d taken in whiskey production. How it was his dream to one day create his own and have it included amongst Scotland’s finest.

“So, you’re not set on being a football star?”

“Och, no. I’m gettin’ too old,” he chuckled. “I love the sport, and I’m good enough to play it professionally, but it’s no my dream to be playin’ and livin’ in it forever like Colum or Dougal.”

“They’re always fighting. I heard them arguing again on Friday. Something about the men doing better than expected?” Maybe Jamie could illuminate some of this for me.

He ran his hand through his hair, “Talkin’ about me, I suppose. And Duncan. And Jean-George.”

“You? They didn’t expect you to do well?”

“Colum did. But Dougal didna want me, or some of the others. Thought we were too used to a different style o’ play from our time in France. Well, that was the excuse. What it was really about was that Ducan and I chose to go to France instead of stayin’ with him and his team. Not the Blackcaps. A Different team out of Aberdeen. The Brownies.”

“Brownies?” I giggled. “What’s a brownie? Or a blackcap?”

He smiled, “A brownie is a wee fairy. Not very intimidatin’ to the modern sensibilities but folk were verra afraid of ‘em a century or two ago.”

“And a blackcap?”

“It’s a bird. It sings a pretty song and is verra territorial, even with other blackcaps.” He returned to the previous topic, “Jean-George doesna deserve this. He’s a fine forward. He doesna think Dougal is God’s gift to football, so he’ll probably ride the bench.”

“You and Duncan don’t deserve it either! Shouldn’t the best players be the ones on the field?”

“Aye, well. It’s politics. The usual way of things.”

Something had been bubbling in my mind and I decided to let it out, “Jamie, the day we met, when you hurt your shoulder. Did you think that was done to you on purpose?”

He gave me a quick nod, “Aye, I did. If I don’t play it’d keep Colum from bein’ right.”

I sat up and kissed his shoulder, “Be careful, Jamie.”

He lifted my chin, “Dinna worry, ye’ll fix me right up.” We kissed, gently at first and then hungrily. This round, I pushed him down to the bed and straddled him.

“Yer stronger than ye look, Sassenach,” he panted.

“Sassenach?” That sounded like Gaelic again. Sex seemed to make him more Scottish.

“It means an English person, or outsider.”

I reached between his legs and squeezed, “That doesn’t sound very complimentary.”

He yelped, “Och! Well no, but I mean it that way. Just for ye.” 

“You better,” I teased him, in more ways than one.

Afterwards, he fell asleep. His bedding was a solid dark blue and much better than the basic spread I had in my own apartment. He faced me, eyes closed a lips parted, looking almost angelic. I longed to touch the ruddy stubble sprouting from his jaw. Perhaps this was all part of a new beginning for me? My heart suddenly seemed bigger in my chest. That was the last thing I remember thinking before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.


	12. Chapter 12

I woke the next morning to Jamie sitting on the bed. He leaned over to kiss me on my forehead and spoke softly, “I’ve gotta run, love. But stay as long as you like.”

My eyes were still bleary but I noticed he was fully clothed in running gear. “What time is it?” I croaked.

“It’s half past seven. I’ve a few miles to log.”

I groaned. I knew I had to get up but I was so comfortable in his bed. The sheets were lovely against my skin and unlike my own spare apartment, his was cozy and lived-in. I sat up, reluctantly. “I’ve got to get going as well. More team physicals to do.”

“Aye, the fellows that went yesterday said ye were gentle. I think that will help the rest of ‘em show up.” He was applying sunscreen to his face and arms.

I sat up and began fishing through the bedding for my underwear, “Was that a problem before?”

“Weeeel, some of them are verra afraid of needles. Ye’ll have to watch out for that. And some of ‘em dinna want their bloodwork done. For other reasons.”

I was confused, “You mean because they’re taking something illegal? Something to help them perform.”

Jamie snorted, “No, it’s the things they shouldna been takin’ because it makes ‘em perform badly.” He continued as he fiddled with his phone, placing it into a holster on his waist. “Some of the others have gotten in trouble for it before. Mickey’s one. Got him ousted from Manchester’s junior team.”

“Then how did they end up here?” I’d found my bra and panties and was now pulling my skirt on.

Jamie didn’t answer. He was looking at his phone with incomprehension. A moment passed, “Sorry, I just got an email from Gillian. Seems we have some promo te do this evening.” He sighed but turned a sad gaze back to me, “I wanted te see ye again later.”

I was somewhat disappointed as well, but this was just casual. And we were neighbors - Jamie lived one floor down from me. I smiled, “It’s alright. Another time.”

…

I decided to brave the public transportation system, and was pleased at it’s efficiency. As convenient as it was, I didn’t wish to spend my salary on cab rides. I found a player waiting for me outside my office. He was crouched in a squat and reading a copy of The Daily Mail with incredible focus. “Good morning! You’re quite early.”

He stood, hastily. “Yes, I did not want to be late.” He spoke with a French accent and I surmised he must be Jean-George, the French forward Jamie was friends with.

“Were you reading the latest about Liam and Cheryl?” I joked.

He became suddenly animated, “Yes! They are always in the paper.” He turned serious,”I do not think Cheryl is right for him.”

I laughed and invited him to tell me more about the latest celebrity gossip while I dropped off my things and led him to the exam room. He spoke with a heavy accent, but his English was good. He told me he enjoyed reading the paper as a way to practice his reading comprehension and acclimate to his new country. 

“Do the other players like talking about Liam and Cheryl?” I inquired, dubiously.

He looked at me and smiled, his teeth bright against his mocha-colored skin, “No, but it is good with the mademoiselles!”

I laughed and understood why Jamie was friends with him. Nurse McIver wasn’t due for another twenty minutes, so we sat chatting for a bit. He told me how he met Duncan and Jamie, and how excited he was to be part of the team, and hoped that we could join the English Premiere League eventually. “We do not have a league similar in France. Spain and England have the most exciting leagues.”

“Jamie was telling me that you were very talented.” I couldn’t resist mentioning Jamie after the wonderful night we had together.

He grinned, “Ah Jamie. He is very good. I play with him very well.”

I was suddenly curious and felt woefully behind at not asking Jamie himself, “What position does Jamie play?”

“He plays midfield, in the center. He is perfect because he is tall and can see.” He extended his arms vertically to emphasis Jamie’s height. I had noticed that Jamie was one of the tallest players on the team. 

We were interrupted by a knock, Nurse McIver was in and ready to extract some blood. I kissed Jean-George on both cheeks and told him I hoped to see him soon.”

“Will you come to the party tonight?”

“What party?”

“There will be a party tonight. There will be many celebrities and photographers!” This was the event Jamie was obligated to go to.

“I don’t think I’m invited. The team doctor isn’t needed.”

He laughed, “I hope we do not need a doctor, but I think it would be fun. Speak with Gillian about a ticket.” I promised him I would, but put it towards the bottom of my list of priorities. 

Another two players arrived, but no Mickey. I checked my email and there was no reply from him. “That aresehole.” I muttered to myself. Dougal and Colum should be notified, and since I it was the weekend, I found Gillian’s cell number in my phone and gave her a ring. 

She picked up straight away, “Gillian Edgars, speaking.”

“Hi Gillian, it’s Claire.” I explained that Mickey had missed both appointments.

“Of course he did. He canna do anything without complicating things. The clown probably didna see yer email either and is still in his gaff with his head in the toilet. He’s needed tonight, too, but that’s a party and he’d never miss that,” she spat.

I was immensely curious, “What is this party about? Another player mentioned it, too.”

“Ah, it’s an opening of a new night club and it’s publicity to have the players out and about. We’re gonna get the town excited for the team that way. We’re even talking with the owner about doin’ a huge season kickoff gatherin. You should meet him. He’s a character - Simon Sandringham.”

“The name sounds familiar.”

“Old money. He invested in some tech geniuses and now he’s got loads of his own. And now he’s got himself a football team.”

This was all important information, but I had some other things on my mind, “Gillian, I just moved into my flat and it looks terribly plain. Do you know where I should go shopping?”

Gillian chuckled, “When are ye done? I’ll meet ye at the practice facility and we’ll get in a few hours.”

I didn’t expect to be doing a girl’s shopping trip with Gillian since I was somewhat unsure of her, but I did need a friend, and she was more than happy to step into the role.

“I’ll be done around 5. I’ll see you then.”


	13. Chapter 13

Shopping with Gillian was a surreal experience. I’d never realized how bad I was at it until observing a clear expert. My home shopping was quickly pushed aside after Gillian offered me a ticket to tonight’s night club opening.

“I didna think ye’d want to go! I’m sorry I didna offer it to ye earlier.” She was looking at a sexy purple top and squinting back at me.

“I didn’t--I mean. It’s not that I really love night clubs. Or wanted to go. I was just curious about what it was.” I was stammering. There were a couple ulterior motives to my interest in the party. Jamie would be there, and I didn’t mind the idea of seeing him again, and I was still reeling from the changes in my life, the most obvious one being an existence without Frank. I didn’t want time to think about the implications of it, or to deal with the pain of grieving it. What I wanted was distraction.

“Well, I can bet ye dinna have anything suitable to wear.” Gillian was scouring the racks after abandoning the purple top. “We want te find something that will attract a fella or two,” she winked at me.

“Gillian, I don’t really have to go -”

“Och, no it’ll be fun. Ye can come with me and just take a peek. All the players are to show up for the carpet and an intro, but then they can do as they like. Both Colum and Dougal told them not to stay out too late. Only some of ‘em will pay it mind.”

She grabbed a black dress with a halter neck and cut outs around the ribs. “A ha! Give this one a go.”

I checked the price tag and balked, “This is a bit expensive.”

“Och, but it’s so sexy. Ye’ll get plenty of use with it.” She shooed me into the dressing room.

Once I saw it on, I had to agree.  
…

Gillian and I ended up getting ready together. Her apartment was also in the Stone Towers, albeit several floors up and with a better view. It was decorated tastefully with bold pieces. Her closet was also full of beautiful items, and well organized. I wondered how an assistant could afford so much designer clothing, but I didn’t want to offend her by actually asking the question. She was lending me a handbag and a lipstick for the evening.

We stood in front of a large mirror and she snapped a picture to post on IG. “What’s yer name on there?” She had chosen a short, sexy emerald green dress that accentuated the similar color of her eyes.

“I don’t have social media,” I said, and was met with a dropped jaw.

“How do ye LIVE? Well, I’ll just call ye ‘Dr. B’ in my post. How’s that?” I laughed and said that was fine. It was nice to have people using my maiden name again with the title of “doctor.”. It reminded me of how excited I felt when I finally graduated from med school. 

Gillian called an Uber and the two of us made our way to “the newest addition to Glasgow’s nightlife scene.”  
…

It was already dark when we arrived, but there was a huge crowd waiting to get in. The VIP guests were being photographed in front of a pale orange backdrop with the club’s name on it, “Syrup” in gold letters. The team was easy to spot. They were clumped together and wearing matching t-shirts. When I got closer, I noticed that each had a logo of an angry-looking songbird with artfully selected lettering around it that read, “Glasgow Blackcaps”. One player broke from the group. 

“Claire! You have come!” Jean-George bounded towards me then kissed me on both cheeks. His enthusiasm caused a ripple effect. All the other players turned and took Gillian and I in. There was a rumble of appreciation, “Fit and fancy tonight!” and several whistles. “ I blushed and looked around for Jamie but didn’t see him.

“Have you been here long?” I asked Jean-George.

He nodded, “They place us in the back. They have telly stars go first.”

I couldn’t help myself, “Is everyone here?”

“Yes, but some man took Jamie inside.” He looked towards the door. “We cannot do our pictures without him.”

Gillian had been playing on her phone, but when she heard this, she snapped up. “What did the man look like?”

“He was old. Very expensive suit. And no hair.” Jean-George made a swirling motion on the top of his head.

Gillian pursed her lips and started texting someone. “He’ll be out in a few minutes.”

While Gillian worked some sort of administrative magic, Jean-George waved over another player, Duncan. He was small, probably one of the smallest on the team, and had been one of the quietest during my exam, but had made me laugh. After my instructions to visit Nurse McIver for blood work, he replied in the most deadpan of ways, “I’m no used to gettin’ poked by a lass.”

He came over, light and bouncy on his feet, “Good evenin’ to ye doctor.” 

“I have asked Duncan for a promise. I want him to dance tonight.” Jean-George was grinning like a fiend. “You must help me” He nudged me with his elbow.

“Of course!” This seemed like fun and I couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of Duncan, so serious, letting loose on the dance floor.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, “I’ll be needin’ a half a tankard o whiskey before I’ll promise it.” Jean-George and I laughed.

We chatted for a few minutes, still in the same spot when Jamie appeared. He’d shaved and his hair was pulled back in a small ponytail. He seemed to be tense, and already a bit drunk, but when he saw me, the tension melted and he broke into a smile, “Claire!” He wrapped me in a big hug and whispered, “Ye look verra sexy.” His glassy eyes traveled down my dress and I worried that he try to kiss me in front of the whole team.

“Oh my! You must be very drunk!”, I said, too loudly. Jean-George, Duncan, and Gillian were all close enough to hear our exchange and were certainly watching it, Gillian with a particular interest. 

“Move down!” The person in charge of directing the flow of VIP guests motioned for the team to step in front of the photographers.

The team struggled to get going, grunting about their t-shirts and reluctant to step forward “Go! Come on,” Gillian yelled. She leaned over and mumbled, “I feel like I’m herdin’ cats.”

Jamie moved towards the end of the line with both Duncan and Jean-George, but tugged on my arm. “I can’t be in the picture! I’m not part of the team!”

“Then stay with me until ye have to go.” He wrapped his arm around my waist, his fingertips finding the cut out of my dress so that he was touching my skin. “I canna wait to be with you again,” he murmured. 

I blushed. And smiled. I couldn’t say anything, not with so many people around, so I hoped that my face said it all. There were clicks and flashes, and then I reluctantly parted with him. Our fingertips grazing each other’s.

“I’ll see you inside!,” I waved and rejoined Gillian. He bounded towards the back of the group as they posed for the photographers. 

There was a flurry questions, “Will this be a winnin’ season!” and “Who is the captain?” Gillian was motioning someone to speak but no one wanted to take charge. Even Mickey, usually so vocal, was cowed by the camera flashes and the barrage of questions. 

Jamie and Jean-George motioned for the both of us to join them for pictures, then the rest of the team joined in. Gillian, exasperated at their poor handling of the media, muttered “Right,” and shoved her phone into her bag. “C’mon, they’ll no use the pics of us anyway.”

The crowd of media was on us immediately, “Who are ye to the team?” “Are ye footballer’s girlfriends?” 

Jamie came forward and wrapped his arms around me. He bent his head to rest on my shoulder and muttered, “I’m pretenden’ to be short.” His mouth was so close to mine, and it took all my willpower not to kiss him or touch his face. Instead, I beamed in his direction.

The team was shouting all at once trying to answer the reporter’s questions, and I can only assume that someone got what they needed because our group was shoo-ed down the line and into the nightclub itself.

It was dark and loud. And freezing. I didn’t think I would be able to stay long. We were all greeted with flutes of champagne and told to stay close to the stage. Jamie downed his in one gulp. “Jamie?!” I scolded. 

He grinned, “It’s so I dinna worry about lookin’ foolish dancin’.” The song was some sort of techno and he bounced along, slightly off of the rhythm.

“We have to dance with Duncan and Jean-George!” He frowned when I said it, “Just for one song!” He nodded and pulled the two of them over to dance. 

Duncan shook his head but Jean-George and Jamie jostled him and made him move a bit. Jean-George was the only one who was perfectly in rhythm, though Jamie improved as the song went on.

Gillian appeared, “Boys, get over to the stage! They’re introducin’ the team in a few minutes!” 

We parted reluctantly, our dance party cut too short. Jamie kissed me before joining the rest and said “If I’m no back soon. I’ll see ye later. At home.” 

A thrill of electricity shot through me, and I nodded. I snaked my hands down his back and squeezed his buttocks. “Good.”

Gillian and I stood and watched as the team was corralled and brought up. The DJ announced them and the crowd cheered, “Glas-gow! Glas-gow!” Several women and men behind us shouted, “Tasty!” and “I’ll let ye score!”

Gillian smiled and nudged me, “Perfect! They’re te do some crowd work after! All of ‘em have pre-season tickets to give out!” Gillian was looking at her phone again with rapt attention. “I’m leavin’, now. Personal business, “ she winked. 

I understood what she meant - I was also looking to deal with personal business tonight. I was on my second glass of champagne and though I’d had a good time so far, I was ready to trade the loud mass of the nightclub for something quieter and more intimate.

We both ordered Ubers and headed out into the cool and quiet night air.  
…

I awoke to a the trilling of my cell phone. It was Jamie calling, along with six earlier text messages. The time was 2am. The last of the texts read, “I’m outside your door!” Instead of answering, I ran and opened the door to my apartment and found Jamie leaning against the wall opposite. He looked the same as before except more drunk, and touched with gold glitter along his forearms and cheekbones.

“Jamie!” He bounded to his feet and kissed me, hungrily. “How was--” but he didn’t let me finish. He pushed me back into my apartment, closing the door softly behind him.


	14. Chapter 14

We quickly relocated to my bedroom where he removed his shirt and I discovered the gold glitter also decorated the hard lines of his torso. It caught the little light coming in from the window as he laid me onto the bed. It seemed a fitting end to this wild night.  
….

When I woke the next morning, my sheets and I were also covered in gold glitter, a pleasant reminder that last night was no dream. Jamie was still sound asleep. I rose, put my pajamas back on and made some coffee for us. By the time I returned, Jamie was sitting upright looking around in a somewhat bewildered state, “For a bit I’d thought I went back in time.”

“Why?” I laughed, handing him a mug of hot coffee.

“It looks jus’ like my gaff, back when I first moved in.” He motioned for me to join him on the bed, then kissed me. “You looked so sexy last night, moi dunne. It was all I could do to keep from takin’ ye right in the street.”

“I am glad you didn’t!” I scooted in beside him, careful not to jostle the bed, or our coffee, “So, are you going to tell me how you ended up looking like Tinkerbell and dirtying my sheets?”

He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nostrils, “There was loads of glitter. Think I’ve got some in my gullet as well.” He coughed and gave me a pained look. “The things ye do when yer drunk.”

Apparently, the club passed out small jars of gold glitter gel and the crowd was encouraged to decorate themselves with it. The players obliged and went one step further by ripping their shirts off an applying it to their chests. 

“How’s your head?”

He turned and took a long gulp, draining his mug, “Fine. I’m still young,” he nudged me with his shoulder.

“Good!” I returned to the more pressing question I had from the night before, “Jamie, where were you when I came? You weren’t with the group.”

He set his mug down on the side table and got up, “No place important. Just makin friendly talk with the team owner. Can I use yer shower?”

The team owner? Simon Sandringham, then. Why was he being so cagey about it, I wondered? I was waiting for him to continue, but he wasn’t interested in sharing.

“What’s he like?” I asked, trying to learn a bit more. There was something off about how Jamie was telling this story.

“He’s a poof. No that it’s a secret.” He started the shower.

I grimaced, “And that’s it? It’s narrow-minded of you.”

“Och, no! I say that because it was all he’d talk about. He grabbed me from the group outside, asked me to come in to the VIP section with him. I thought he wanted to talk about the team, but he really wanted te ask me personal bits. Even when I wanted te talk about startin’ my own business, he was, well...” He stepped into the shower, mostly, I think, to avoid talking about it further.

While Jamie de-glittered, I checked my phone. I had ten texts from Joe, all of them asking me who the footballer was and where I’d gotten my dress. I stared at them for too long, wondering how Joe knew about my night out when I hadn’t told him. 

He picked up on the first ring. “Claire! Oh my GOD, tell me who he is! He’s gorgeous!” 

“Joe! How do you know I was out last night?!”

“The pictures are up! As soon as you got the job I set a Google alert for the Glasgow Blackcaps. There’s one of you beaming at some tasty footballer with his hands round your waist. You can’t tell me it’s nothing!”

I was shocked, and not in an entirely good way. “Oh my God, Joe! I didn’t think they’d use those pictures! Did they use my name?”

“No, no.” His tone was reassuring, “But I recognized you straight away. Who was the other woman with you?”

“The assistant to the head coach.” I softened thinking about the fun whirlwind of the night before. “Her name is Gillian. She got me the ticket and helped me pick out the dress.”

“Can you believe this is your life, now? A week ago, you were in America. Miserable. Stuck in a loveless marriage...I never liked Frank by the way.”

“What?! You were at our wedding!”

“And? I’m not going to ruin my best friend’s happiness by telling her I think her choice of men is a bit stodgy and bland. And I didn’t like that he wanted to move you across the ocean. Hold on, Rupert wants to say something.” 

He seemed to turn on speaker phone and I heard Rupert shout from across what was probably their kitchen, “Gorgeous dress and gorgeous man! Make sure to introduce us when we visit!”

“Thank you, Rupert!” I shouted, unnecessarily matching Rupert’s volume.

“Who’s Rupert?” Jamie was out of the shower and drying himself off in front of me. He resembled a dripping Scottish Adonis and I went silent appreciating his perfect, long lines.

“Claire?! Is that him?!” I heard Joe yell from the other end.

“Erm, I have to call you back!” I quickly hung up the phone and put the ringer on silent.

Jamie smirked, “Another boyfriend?”

I stood and grabbed the towel from him, “Something like that.” He unbuttoned the top of my pajamas, then removed my bottoms.

“I’ve been doing some research, “he whispered between kisses. “Lie down.”

“I’m still covered in glitter. I should shower.” I protested, weakly.

“It looks lovely on ye.” He bent his head and kissed me across my breasts, then my stomach and thighs. I tried not to think about anything but enjoying the moment and what was likely about to happen, but thoughts of Frank and the unfinished business between us, as well as my undefined relationship with Jamie clouded my mind.

Jamie paused noticing my muddled thoughts, “Claire? Dinna worry." He ran his hand down my stomach in a soothing gesture, "I want to, aye?,” then returned his head between my legs and set to work. The movements of his tongue and fingers dissolved my thoughts and spread a warm ache throughout my body. 

I didn’t know how long he spent before I began rocking my hips forward and grabbing his hair, trying to take him deeper. He dug his thumb into the muscles of my thigh, spreading me further and I climaxed, gasping and shuddering.

I looked down across the slope of my belly and Jamie was grinning back at me, “I’m a quick study.”

I smiled as I caught my breath, “Smug bastard. Come here.” He crawled forward and nestled himself between my legs. 

‘So much for breakfast,’ I thought.


	15. Chapter 15

Jamie insisted we go out for breakfast, or what he really meant was a late lunch. It was 11 by the time we left the Stone Towers, both of us having rid ourselves of most of the glitter from last night, and changed into fresh clothes.

“What are yer plans for the day?,” Jamie asked as he finished off a well-buttered potato scone. He ate an impressive amount, as most professional athletes probably did. Still, it was fascinating to watch him polish off an entire egg skillet and then ask for additional sustenance.

“I hadn’t really thought about it. I suppose I might do some shopping for the apartment.” We’d stopped in Jamie’s flat before leaving and I was impressed at how much more welcoming it was with a few posters and books scattered about. 

“Me and a few of the lads are going to go to the park and mess about. Would ye like to come? We could teach ye some bits about football if ye like.” 

He was so openly sweet and generous that my cynicism was disarmed. I wasn’t used to this. Frank was twelve years older than me, and far more cagey about expressing things like what he wanted, and even sharing his enthusiasm about anything. I couldn’t help but jump at the offer, “Yes, I’d like that.” I reached across the table and squeezed Jamie’s arm. 

He winked, “Brilliant. We’ll turn ye into a football star!”

“What?!” I stammered. I thought you were going to show me a few things.

“Aye! I’ll be showin’ ye how te do all the fancy bits - passes, traps, shots, maybe today we’ll get to headers!”.

“But Jamie! I’ve never really played!” I was giggling but also dubious about what I was going to be doing later and how foolish I was going to look.

“Dinna worry. It’s a fair exchange. Fer all ye’ve shown me.” He ran his foot down my leg from across the little booth and I flushed recalling our time in bed. It was unbelievable how fast things were moving and how much my life changed in the span of a week. 

We looked across the table at one another and knew that we’d be late to the park.  
……………

Glasgow was beautiful and had a charm much different than the one Boston had. I preferred the buildings and the temperature, as well as the similarity to my time in uni. Jamie lent me a sweatshirt as I had only the barest of necessities and only sweaters to wear for layering. I’d been a frequent gym-goer up until a few months ago and I’d brought exercise pants and sneakers along with me, but nothing appropriate for outdoors. It was an overcast day and we arrived at the park sometime after 2 and found Duncan and Jean-George passing a ball back and forth using only their heads.

“Jamie!” Jean George stepped back and let the ball hit him in the chest, then neatly brought it to a stop as it fell to the ground.

“Leavin’ early and arrivin’ late? Canna hold yer liquor annamore?” Duncan looked accusingly at Jamie.

“Hey all.” I gave a little wave, then turned, “Jamie, you didn’t tell me you left early last night.”

Jamie rolled his eyes, “I’d stayed long enough. I’ll be findin’ glitter all over for the rest of the season. When did ye two globbers leave?”

“After some lass told me she wanted to score on me.” Duncan replied dryly.

“A woman wanted to have sex with you?” asked Jean-George, trying to comprehend.

Jamie yelled something unintelligible at him, and Duncan stuck his tongue out. I guessed it was Gaelic and that Duncan must understand it as well as speak it.

“I’m jus’ jokin’ doctor. I left when I went into the lav and couldna hear me own thoughts the music had been so loud.” He paused, “Can ye go deaf from a night club?”

“Only if you go to night clubs every night, which I hope you’re not doing.”

Jean-George kicked the ball over to him and Jamie charged, trying to get it before it arrived at Duncan’s feet. 

Duncan ran to it and passed it back to Jean-George, which sent Jamie charging in the opposite direction. “Doctor!” yelled Jean-George, and he kicked the ball to me. It was a neat pass, sharp, and yet I panicked when I saw Jamie charging at me with a wicked grin. 

“No!” I shrieked. I kicked it in Duncan’s direction and instead of changing course, Jamie tackled me to the ground and started tickling me.

“That’s the poorest defense I’ve ever seen!” yelled Duncan.   
…...

We spent a few hours at the park “just getting some touches in.” They explained the different types of passes and traps to me and I was astonished at how easy they made it look. The ball was completely under their control and at the slightest touch, did as they commanded. 

Neither Duncan or Jean-George treated me differently, or asked for an explanation about my presence. I assumed Jamie had already told them I was coming with him. Or maybe they’d seen us together last night and assumed I'd be joining them? I was a little uncomfortable with the team knowing my business, but I hadn’t had time to be strategic. My life had been in a tailspin, but since coming to Glasgow, it had righted itself and was moving in a more positive direction at hyper speed. It was difficult to catch my breath - and not only because I was trying to keep up with a professional footballer. Still, I felt a painful nag at my heart. I had unfinished business with Frank, and I knew I’d have to deal with it. Sooner, rather than later.


	16. Chapter 16

That Monday, I had one thing on my ‘To-Do List” and that was to let Colum know that Mickey had missed his team physical. I had to turn in my complete files, and I was still missing one. After arriving in my office, and checking my e-mail once more to see if Mickey had responded, I marched down to Colum’s office and knocked on the door.

“Come in!” He called. 

I poked my head in, “Do you have a minute?”

“Yes, yes of course,” he said, waving me in. “I’ve actually got somethin’ to speak to ye about as well.”

I had a feeling I knew what it was about, and I felt my ears turn red. “Go ahead,” I replied, trying to keep my voice and face neutral and professional.

Colum didn’t look awkward in the least when he said, “I understand ye and Jamie have gotten close.” Before I could say anything, he quickly added, “It’s no against the rules. I think that the both of us still have the same interest, and that’s keepin’ the lad healthy. Fer example, if he isna fit to play, yer no gonna lie and say he is, because that’s what he wants, aye?”

I exhaled and replied with sober confidence, “No, I would never do that.”

“Good.” Colum folded his hands and looked down, hesitating for the first time. “I’ve known Jamie since he was a wee laddie in the U-16 league. He’s a fine athlete and a natural leader and I always thought he’d go far. He lost his father a few years back and took it hard, his future in football...well, he almost lost his place on the team he was on. I stepped in and helped him, got him a bit back on ‘is script. What I’m sayin’ is, be good to ‘im. I’m askin’ as his mentor, no’ as his boss.”

I swallowed hard and was surprised to feel my eyes prick with tears. I didn’t know Jamie had lost his father a few years ago, or that Colum was something of a father figure to him. The Jamie I knew was all smiles, warm embraces, and enthusiasm. That he had lost both his parents at such a young age reminded me of my own loss. As for my own intentions, I didn’t realize how much I’d already grown to care for him. 

“I see why you care for him so much,” I replied in earnest. “He’s...a good person.” My voice broke as I added, “I recognize that as much as you do. Already.”

Colum gave me a half smile and nodded, “I’m glad we got that done and buried. Now, what is it that ye wanted to see me about?”

I snapped back into professional mode, “Mickey didn’t show up for his team physical. I’m not above going out onto the field and dragging him into the exam room by his ear, but I’d like your permission first.”

Colum tightened his jaw, “That right scunner. Ye do with ‘im as ye like. Dinna let Dougal apologize fer ‘im or keep ‘im from ye.”

“Nurse McIver isn’t here today, either. He’ll have to go to a lab and have his blood taken there.”

“This is why ye think about character when puttin’ together a team. No just talent!” Colum was getting more animated. “It’s wha’ puts players like Jamie above players like Mickey. Dougal doesna understand it yet. Thinks he can change an areshole into a prince with good coachin’ tactics.” He exhaled, “My apologies doctor, I’ve much te say on the matter, but ye’ve got some work te do.”

I left his office feeling a mixture of emotions - a deep, aching compassion for Jamie, and a nagging feeling about what my own intentions were as a woman who was still mourning the end of her marriage. I didn’t want to hurt Jamie, but what if I did? 

“Claire!” It was Gillian, walking towards me with a chipper countenance. She could move surprisingly fast in heels. “I was meanin’ to tell ye congrats on grabbin’ that ripe set of baws. Jamie’s a prize fer sure.” She winked at me.

I stammered, caught off guard, “Oh, well. Thank you. He’s actually very sweet.”

“Och the younger they are the better. More trainable, aye?”

I was put off by her cynicism, but held my tongue, “I never thought of it that way.”

“What did ye see Colum about? That?” She changed the subject abruptly.

“No, I wanted to ask him what to do about Mickey. He missed the team physicals and he’ll have to go to a lab to get his blood drawn.”

Gillian rolled her eyes, “Come with me. We’ll tell Dougal about that goon.”

We made our way to the field and Gillian waved Dougal over. The players were doing a drill similar to the one I’d seen Jamie, Jean-George, and Duncan doing in the park where several players passed the ball around a single attacking defender. Jamie waved and I waved back, happy to see him. 

Dougal was at attention, “Somethin’ the matter?”

I explained the Mickey situation to Dougal. “I don’t want to interrupt his practice time, but he has to come in.”

“Aye, I know it.” Dougal turned, “MIckey!” he bellowed, “Get yer arse over here!” 

Mickey came over in a slow jog, his face deceptively innocent. “Aye, coach?”

Dougal poked at him with a thick finger, “Doctor tells me ye missed team physicals. Ye’ll do it now. As long as it takes.”

Gillian stayed back outside with Dougal while Mickey and I walked back to my exam room. I knew he was several paces behind me and didn’t bother to look back at him until he said something, “If you wanted to see me, you didn’t need an excuse.” His accent was English, perhaps London, and from a more middle class area. I imagined him as a coddled boy, told he was going to surmount his class with football talent before he’d really earned it.

“I didn’t want to see you. It’s my job.” We rounded the corner and stepped into the exam room. I held the door open for him and closed it behind him.

“So you let Fraser jump to the front of the line.”

I snapped my head in his direction, “Excuse me?”

“If you wanted a good lay, you should have started with one of the younger fellas. We’ve got more stamina.” He was already sitting on the exam table, and staring back at me with a smirk.

I stepped forward and got inches from his face and hissed,“More stamina, and less manners.” This amused him, but before he could respond, I continued, “You may be good at flitting about with a ball but you’re nothing to me except a patient. If you don’t shut up, I will repeat everything you said to your Coach and Manager and you’ll have to wait your turn for a physical like everyone else in this country. It might take weeks, and then you’d be ineligible to play. Do you want that?”

Mickey’s eyes blazed, “You act like you don’t know. What are women doing hanging about footballers if not to shag ‘em and bag ‘em?” My speech hadn’t mollified him, but he seemed to have dropped the sexual overtones.

“Some people have jobs, Mickey. This is mine.” He was silent the rest of the exam except when I asked him direct questions about his medical history. When we finished, I said, “I’m going to ring the local hospital to see if we can come in and get your blood work taken. Let’s go to my office.”

Mickey jumped to his feet, “I have to get back on the field.”

I was surprised he was suddenly defiant again. “Your coach said I could keep you for as long as necessary. Sit back down.” He was pacing and running his fingers through his hair.

“No. I can’t do it. I won’t do it.” He was repeating it to himself as much as to me.

I assessed the situation. Here was a grown man panicking at having his blood drawn. Was he afraid of what a lab might find, or was he afraid of the procedure? I took a guess. “You don’t like needles, do you Mickey?” I said, evenly.

He stopped pacing and looked as if he was about to cry, “No,” he choked.

This was a fairly common problem, and one that I could sympathize with. Mickey no longer appeared to be a cocky athlete. Instead, he was a scared little boy. “Mickey, we’ll have to do it eventually. Isn’t it better if we go and try to get it done now instead of postponing it?” I was trying to talk some sense into him, and sooth his anxiety simultaneously.

Mickey took a deep breath, then looked up at me. His color was off and he was sweating but this pause was a good sign. “Sit back down and--”

He flung the door open and bolted. I shot up and poked my head out, “Where are you going?!” I called after him. At least he was going in the direction of the field. He was probably having a panic attack. I started awkwardly jogging after him in my kitten-heels and mentally catalogued what, if any medical supplies I had here to combat anxiety. 

A smooth English voice filled the hallway behind me. “I didn’t expect to see something like this in the office.” I stopped and turned.

“Hello.” I caught my breath, “Are you looking for someone?”

The man was smartly dressed with slick hair and looked to be in his early forties. Something about his reaction to a woman chasing a man down a hallways gave me pause. He found it...amusing. 

He stuck out his hand, “Hello Doctor. My name is Jonathan Black, but you may call me ‘Jack.’” 

I reciprocated, though I was still somewhat suspicious. “How did you know who I was?”

“I’m one of Mr. Sandringham’s business managers. I’m the one overseeing his investment in the Blackcaps.” 

“So you know me?” I asked, puzzled.  
“We vetted you before we asked you to come for an interview. Standard procedure.”

It was standard procedure to look at my resume and corroborate my work history, but to already know what I looked lik? I silenced the alarm bells in my brain - it must be that he knows Gillian already, and that I’m the only other female here on a day to day basis. Process of elimination.

I tried to appear chipper, “Can I help you find someone, Jack?”

He smiled, “Yes, actually. I’m looking for Jamie Fraser.”

I felt a wave of fear rise in my chest, but I couldn’t pinpoint a cause. Instead I replied, “Come along. Let’s see if we can find him.”


	17. Chapter 17

I knew I had to find Mickey, and since he’d headed towards the field, I decided to lead Jack outside to find Jamie, thus accomplishing two tasks at once.

I tried making conversation, “What brings you here looking for Jamie?”

“Mr. Sandringham and I met him on Saturday and were impressed by him and his potential as a player and businessman. I’ve come to invite him to a party happening this weekend.”

He came in person to do that? Why didn’t he just call or text? This was odd. I tried to broaden the conversation. “Have you met any of the others? There are some impressive young men here.” I mentioned Jean-George’s decision to play abroad, and another player that was something of a musical prodigy. 

“We’ve not met the others. We let Colum and Dougal decide on the roster.” He seemed bored. 

“Are you much of a football fan, Mr. Black?” I was struggling to keep the silence at bay.

“No,” he replied. “There isn’t much poetry in it, is there? I prefer something more elemental.”

“Like what?” Though I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer.

“Fighting. Boxing. MMA. That sort of thing. It’s all about the will. The athleticism is second.” He stopped walking, so intent on describing the brutal majesty of modern bloodsport. “The violence of it destroys the body as well as the mind. It’s not a sport for gentleman. No man with another option would choose something so brutal, but the sport persists. When one man yields to the other, it is really a matter of life and death.” He took a breath and smiled. “Not the ultimate death, of course. I can see you’re not of the same mind, Doctor Beauchamp.”

I didn’t realize I was looking at him with my mouth pressed tight and my eyes wide as saucers. I shook off the expression of horror I’d been wearing.“I have never been much of a sports fan. Though am somewhat keen on tennis. And I’m sure I’ll learn to appreciate football as well.” I added, quickly, not wanting to disparage his employer’s investment in a football team.

“Tennis? That’s identical to fighting. It is just a psychologically brutal. Man against man for hours, even days. It’s simply less bloody.” He bit his lip and I turned away, wanting to end the unpleasant conversation.

We arrived at the end of the tunnel that opened out into the field. The players were practicing drills at different stations. Dougal was watching them intently while Gillian sat in the stands wearing a similar look of concentration. I looked through the various groups of players and didn’t see Mickey. “Jesus H. Christ,” I huffed.

“You a Catholic, doctor? I hope not. Bloody awful religion.” He waived at Dougal and his head snapped up. He looked over to me with a look of confusion. I imagined he expected to see Mickey with me, depositing him back into his own care, but instead turned up with a slick businessman.

“Coach. This is Mr. Black--”

“I know who he is.” Dougal replied gruffly, nodding his head towards our guest. “What do ye need?”

“I’d like to speak with one of your players for a moment, if that’s not too much.” He was sleek and polite in his manner, but something about him still made me recoil.

“I’ve some business to attend to with the Doctor. Go pick the one ye need.” Then Dougal turned to me and left Jack to fetch Jamie. It was not what I expected him to do. Dougal had shouted for Mickey to come to me just an hour ago, yet he was making this man soil what were obviously expensive shoes by tromping through the grass.

They stared at one another, a battle of wills similar to a boxing match. Jack cleared his throat, “I’d like to invite Jamie Fraser to a business dinner this Friday. He impressed Mr. Sandringham and we would like to discuss his future a bit more.” He produced a thick business card from his breast pocket. “See to it that Jamie gets this. Tell him to ring me.”

“Fine.” Dougal snatched the card and stuffed it into the pocket of his tracksuit jacket. “Gillian!” He waved her over, “Kindly take Mr. Black to see Colum. I’m sure he’d like te see ye. Since ye’ve stopped by.”

“I’ve not much time, but yes, it would do well to say ‘hello.’” Jack cooley assed Gillian, wearing a low-cut silk blouse. I noticed that his eyes didn’t travel down to her cleavage, either from disinterest, or decorum. 

“Nice to see ye, Mr. Black.” She gave him a warm smile and guided him back into the tunnel.

I was about to ask Dougal about his attitude towards Sandingham’s emissary, but he had more important things to ask, “Where’s Mickey?” I explained that I had lost him and that Mickey was likely somewhere having a panic attack.

Dougal whipped out his phone and dialed, presumably Mickey. There was no answer. “Christ!” He frowned. “What do ye do in situations like this?”

“Situations like…?”

“Ye’ve a lad, or a woman that canna abide needles. What do ye do?”  
“Oh, well…” I did deal with several cases on needle phobia when I worked in Boston and was glad to have an answer for him. “In the long term, they should start working with a therapist to overcome the phobia. I hear that CBT - Cognitive Behavioral Therapy is very effective for phobias.”

“Our season starts in five weeks. His blood work canna wait. What’s the short term trick?”

I was blunt, “Xanax and restraints.”

Dougal nodded, “I’ll explain that to the lad when he turns up. Maybe the team psychologist will work with him on it.”

“There’s a team psychologist?” I was shocked.

“Aye. We dinna use her much. The whole idea is very American,” he scoffed. “Since ye spent some time there, maybe it doesna seem so funny to ye.”

It was more socially acceptable in America to visit psychologists, but I hadn’t thought to see one myself, even when I’d been suffering so much during the past year. Still, I recognized their work as valuable. “I think healing comes in many different ways.”

“I suppose it does.” He conceded. “When ye find that bawheid, let him know I’ll leave Colum to run practice and I’ll batter him senseless the whole way te the hospital and then hold him down for the nurse.”

“I might leave that last part out,” I replied, dryly. “Are you going to give Jamie the card, now? I can give it to him later.”

“Oh I bet ye can.” He gave me a little wink. “Redheads” he muttered, then cupped his hands around his mouth to yell, “Jamie!” He waved him to us while I pondered the meaning behind his aside about hair color.

Jamie bounded over, “Aye, coach?” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

“A Mr. Black wants te invite ye to some dinner. He said te call him.”

“Oh, right. I will.” Jamie didn’t seem too enthused.

“If you were Mickey and you were skipping out on practice, where would you go?” 

Jamie looked at me, “What?”

“He left the exam early. I thought he came out here.” I was reluctant to share something so embarrassing about Mickey with one of his peers. Perhaps I’d even violated Mickey’s privacy by sharing what had happened with Dougal.

“Who’s his best mate?” Dougal cut in, “We know ye can point that out.”

“Hugh,” Jamie said firmly.

“The English stick together,” muttered Dougal. Before turning to summon Hugh, a player I remembered as the somewhat albino-looking one from his exam, Dougal spoke softly to Jamie, “I’d like ye to be nice to the team owner, but dinna do anything ye don’t want. We’re not their whores, aye?”

Jamie nodded, then he brought my hand up to his mouth and kissed it before quickly turning around and sprinting back to his drill station.

I returned to my office, thinking about what Jack and Sandringham’s interest in Jamie and wondering how much Xanax and restraint Mickey would need before we could give him a little prick.


	18. Chapter 18

I checked my email and found another message from Frank:

_Claire,_

__

_One of my students brought me the press release for your new job. She congratulated me for having “such a cool wife.” I didn’t correct her because you still are my wife, Claire, whether you like it or not. You said you needed space and so I told everyone that you were on holiday, visiting your friends back in England. I had no idea you were packing up and leaving for good. That you would do that, that you would throw away our years together and turn me into a liar shows what kind of person you really are. You can’t really love anyone. You spent your whole life rootless and moving from adventure to adventure. I should have known that I was another tool for that. You saw me as a chance to go to America, and when you got bored with the novelty, you jumped for the next thing. I hope that boy toy you were with leaves you for one of those trashy Footballer’s Wives women that are so common over there. Here in the US, that dazzle would be gone. He’d be nothing. Remember that when he won’t answer your texts and you’re sobbing because he used you for a good time. Karma will have worked it’s magic._

__

_Your husband, Frank_

I read it and re-read it, crying quietly and asking myself how much of it was true.


	19. Chapter 19

I went home that night, feeling as if I’d had the wind sucked out of me. I couldn’t bear to eat dinner, and I ignored Jamie’s texts. 

What Frank had said wasn’t entirely true - I’d said that I needed to get out of “here”, that I needed to get away, that I was unhappy. The only reason I could think of for his confusion was that I hadn’t taken everything with me. I’d left various articles of shoes and clothes, home goods. My entire life I’d spent moving around, even so much as changing apartments at the end of each year in uni and med school. I was unaccustomed to “stuff”, things. I’d never owned so much as a vase - an item whose purpose was mostly aesthetic. Everything else I’d owned was practical, or carried some meaning. I wasn’t dragging around my diploma out of a sense of pride, I was doing it to get a job. I’d kept little of sentimental value, and even those things had practical uses. A wool scarf from Uncle Lam, a t-shirt with Cambridge emblem I purchased my first week of school. 

Maybe Frank was right - I couldn’t love. I’d lost my parents at a young age and instead of love, I’d craved affection and adventure. Uncle Lam had done his best, but he’d never intended to be a father. What if my unhappiness was a restlessness, one that could never be alleviated, no matter the goodness of the relationship?

I went to the Blackcap’s Instagram page to see if any of those “trashy Footballer’s Wives” were sniffing around our nascent team. There were several pictures of the players up, the more handsome the player, the more likes. Jamie’s picture was an action shot of him playing in a practice sweater, his strong legs propelling him forward with the ball at his feet. His picture had many, many likes.

When I clicked on the tagged tab, I found many pictures from Saturday night. The boys posing for pictures inside Syrup, the nightclub. Some of them featured the boys wearing the Blackcap’s sweater, the others were taken after much alcohol and glitter, their naked and toned torsos shining beneath the strobe lights. My stomach dropped when I saw Jamie posing with several girls, their hands around his waist. It was captioned, “Footballers do it better.”

Jamie looked very drunk, but his interest was solely on the camera, and not trio of sexy girls posing with him. I looked at their faces. They were so young - probably students at the local university. They didn’t have husbands. They weren’t broken, or incapable of being settled. I began to sob. These women were better for Jamie than I was. I was selfish and damaged. I’d not been honest with him about my marriage and how fresh my separation from Frank really was.

I promised myself that I would tell Jamie the truth. It wasn’t too late to be honest, even if it meant losing something and someone that already seemed so promising. I cried myself to sleep, not just for what I was about to lose, but for what I had already lost.


	20. Chapter 20

Mickey had been located. After practice, Hugh led Dougal to a dingy pub not far from the practice facility where Mickey was being served en gratis by a familiar bartender. I learned this when Dougal showed up early the next morning with a clenched hand around Mickey’s arm.

“Tell her what ye told me. About what happens when ye get a shot.” He was gruff in his demand, despite Mickey’s obvious fragility.

“I faint.” He said simply.

“And?” urged Dougal.

Mickey hesitated, “I piss myself.”

I nodded and kept my face neutral, “What you have Mickey, is a vasovagal response. If you’d have told me, it would have saved the both of us a lot of trouble.” It explained his avoiding my exam, but not his overall defiance and behavior. I would have to compartmentalize my feelings to treat him compassionately.

“I’ve spoken with the local hospital and they are prepared to accommodate us.” I pulled a small bottle out of my purse, “Here, have one of these now. By the time we get there you should be feeling much less anxious.” The faster method would have been an intravenous medication, but that was clearly out of the question.

“Can I get my bag?” Mickey asked, weakly, not swallowing the pills. “I’ll need my water bottle.”

“Fine. But I’m no lettin’ ye go by yerself and runnin’ off again.” Dougal kept a firm grip on his arm. “Doctor, come with us. We’ll leave after.” He jostled him, “Ye’ll swallow it now. Water or no.”

Mickey carefully placed the pill at the back of his tongue and swallowed with great effort. I rolled my eyes. Men were such drama queens.

The locker room wasn’t what I expected. It was much nicer than the kind I saw in the regular gyms. It was carpeted at the entrance with comfortable chairs and the lockers themselves were more like cubbies with small drawers for valuables at the bottom. The showers and toilets were off on the other side, totally separate from the tranquility here. Each one was personalized, the player’s name in bold lettering next to the same icon of an angry blackcap I’d seen on the t-shirts they wore on Saturday night.

Mickey grabbed his bag and took an exaggerated swig from his water bottle as Dougal and I looked on, trying not to roll our eyes. I searched the space for Jamie’s locker and came to it by accident. There was a small bouquet of yellow flowers poking out of his bag, presumably so they wouldn’t be crushed.  
I panicked. Where they for me? Why was he buying flowers before his work day? Why give them to me after I ignored his texts last night? My stomach sank. Maybe they were for someone else? One of those girls from Saturday night? Now that he knew he was no longer a sexual dud, he may have bloomed into an ultra confident version of himself. 

All this was playing across my face, undoubtedly. Thank God Dougal’s focus was still on Mickey, taking his sweet time removing his boots and replacing them with trainers. I knew from Mickey’s file that he was 20, and had just turned it back in April. He had all the maturity of a boy half his age.

My normal composure was gone and I felt like I was back in my late teens early twenties again thinking about those flowers. I had a knot in my stomach and the granola bar and coffee I’d had an hour ago were threatening to revolt. I straightened my spine and pretended to be an adult. Pretended because I certainly didn’t feel like one.

………………..

Our visit to the hospital went by without a hitch. Mickey was taken care of, carefully laid out in a plastic lined recliner in case of fainting. Luckily, none of the worst case scenarios played out and he was discharged after his blood was taken. I informed Dougal that he might be a little sluggish the rest of the day from the anti-anxiety medication, but was otherwise capable of practicing. To him, I warned, “No drinking or you very well could faint from the drug interaction.

Mickey exhaled deeply, obviously annoyed, but I didn’t care. He was completely Dougal’s problem for the rest of the day. It was only a little after noon, but I was exhausted from my fitful sleep the lack of food I’d consumed since yesterday afternoon.

I checked my phone and found a text from Jamie “hurt my knee can u take a look?”

I texted back “Yes, be there in 10” and knew that I should tell him, as soon as possible, about my situation with Frank.

When I got to my office, Jamie was waiting for me with the bouquet of yellow flowers. “I didna really hurt my knee, I just wanted an excuse te see ye.” He smiled. “Is everythin’ alright?”

I was overwhelmed, “Jamie, they’re lovely. But what are these for?”

“I’d have liked to have gotten them fer ye sooner - before we, you know, but…”

He seemed to be waiting for me to fill in the blanks. I looked at him and said “Jamie, we need to talk.”

He swallowed, “Now?”  
“Let’s wait until later. After practice?” I was trying to appear neutral, but I felt awkward. “Thank you so much for these lovely flowers!”

He nodded, “Te brighten up yer flat.”

I thought about adding them to the austere kitchen. I’d need a vase. A vase! Just the thing I’d never thought to buy. “Please, come to mine then. So you can see how they look.”

Was I making this worse for myself, or better? I wasn’t sure.

“Aye, I’ll stop in after practice. Say at half past six?” He was tense.

Alright, then. See you!” I gave him a little smile and he turned and went down to the cafeteria. I returned to my office, counting down the minutes until tonight and busying myself with paperwork until the players were done with lunch and firmly back in the swing of practice before setting foot into the cafetera to grab a snack. I didn’t want to run into Jamie again until I’d figured out exactly what I wanted to say.


	21. Chapter 21

Since meeting Frank during my first year of med school, he became the only man in my life. We encountered one another at the beginning of the semester, at a pub, and fell into bed within a week. He’d be gone by New Year’s, and we decided to have fun. He was older, American, and already out of school. All these things made him incredibly exotic to little me, still surrounded by scrawny school boys, all of them unformed and pedestrian compared to the men and women I’d grown up with. 

When he returned to Boston, we stayed in touch, never explicitly discussing a long-distance relationship, but maintaining contact. Within a few months, we were texting every day, and scheduling Skype calls. In the summer, I visited the States and he met me in New York City. It was still all fun, with no set plan. Now that I thought about it more, the whole foundation of the relationship had been flawed. We didn’t discuss such important things, and I was carried away by my illusion of what we were instead of what we really were - long distance fuck buddies.

I knew enough about Frank’s life, but certainly not everything. There was only so much I could share with him about my own life. The day to day was a mystery. I knew he’d never married before and was used to living alone, but I worried about him, and about us. Was he faithful? Could he ever commit to me? All my questions melted away when he surprised me with an engagement ring. It was the happiest day of my life, and we wasted no time in getting married. I’d just finished med school earlier in the year and was ready for new, more adult decisions. It came at the perfect time.

When I arrived in Boston, I was eager to find work, perhaps choose a specialty, but Frank wanted to start a family, “I’m nearly 40. We don’t have time to waste.”

I was shocked. “What about my career?” He dropped it, but I believe that was the first rift.  
…

There were things I did that annoyed him. Sometimes, I think my very presence was a nuisance. I reminded myself that he had lived alone most of his adult life, and hadn’t fully adjusted to having a partner. Sometimes I told myself that after he simmered in silence instead of answering a question about trash collection day, or the utility bill. I would retreat to the little balcony outside our kitchen and cry, unsure of what I’d done to set him off.

The job I took was a compromise. I was working at a hospital, overseeing several departments. It wasn’t really what I wanted to do, but it was well-paid, and prestigious. I was younger than most doctors given the same responsibility - all the other doctors and nurses treated me with wariness as a result. I thought myself one of them, but their coldness reminded me that I was not.

I wanted to quit. I told Frank that often. Several weeks ago, after a particularly heinous work day, I told him I was going to resign and he said “It’s time you did. I thought you’d be pregnant by now.” 

His tone was dismissive and detached, as if he were talking about livestock instead of his wife. I told him that I wasn’t ready. “Then what’s the point?” He was gruff, and then silent, chewing on a piece of chicken. I’d nothing to say. I got up, locked myself in the bathroom, and sobbed into the cool tiles on the floor.

I was unhappy and had been for a long time. Like the frog in a pot of slowly boiling water, I hadn’t realized that it was destroying me. Frank was a different man than the one I knew. I put in my notice the next morning and left a letter for Frank telling him I was returning to England.  
……

It was 6:20pm and I was sitting at the kitchen table with my iPad, desperately trying to distract myself when all the thoughts of Frank and the past started to replay through my head. I’d been reading the same paragraph of The Guardian over and over, the words not registering. In front of me, the flowers sat nicely in a glass pitcher, the one that came with the apartment. I’d been using it for drinking water, but decided that this was more important for the time being. They were a bright pop of color in the otherwise white and gray kitchen and with a pang was reminded at how thoughtful a gesture this was.

Absentmindedly, I noticed the sky had grown darker. It would rain soon. There was a rap on the door - Jamie. I hurried towards it and paused to smooth my t-shirt. I’d changed into more casual wear after I got home and nervously paced the apartment thinking about what to say. “Jamie, come in.”

He stepped inside. His eyes darted to the flowers on the table, but his face was grim. “Duncan saw ye.”

“What?”

“On Tindr. He said ye came up.” He looked away. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it?”

“I joined when I got here.” I felt foolish defending this choice, and surprised that this, of all things had come up. I was also unwilling to let it be a knock against me. “I saw you with some girls on Saturday! You were shirtless and you took a picture with them!”

He turned red, “Then I came back here and shagged ye so many times I lost count! I didna do anything but take a picture with ‘em! Are ye mad?”

Hot anger rose in my throat, “No, I’m not! What I am is afraid!” The pulse of energy broke and I stifled a sob, “I can’t have my heart broken, again.”

Jamie looked at me, still angry but suddenly disarmed. “Is that what ye wanted te say? Te accuse me of…” He looked away. “Of course ye didn’t. Ye want to see other men.”

“No! That’s not what I wanted to say.” I was swallowing my tears down as much as I could.

“Do ye no want me anymore?” His fists were clenched but his tone was soft, his voice almost a whisper.

I took a deep breath. I knew what I wanted to say, but he looked so hurt that I knew no words could be enough to assuage it. Instead, I walked over to him, grabbed him by the neck of his t-shirt and and showed him that I did still want him, very much. 

Nothing had been resolved, but I was riding a wave of passion and electric emotion. He smelled fresh, his body tight and fit beneath the faded cotton shirt. He tugged at my hair and brought his other hand down my back, pressing my body against his, “Claire, will ye have me?”

“Yes,” I panted. We didn’t bother waiting to get to the bedroom to undress. Between kisses and the flurry of mouths and hands on skin, we left a trail of discarded clothing. We were like savages. Jamie threw me to the bed, pouncing on top of me, and began to nip at my breasts with his teeth. I tried to grab him and pull him up to me, but he grabbed my wrists, pinioning me to the bed. I kicked my legs in frustration and he tightened his grip.

“I’ll take ye when I’m good an’ ready.” He snaked himself between my legs, but he still hesitated. 

He bit my nipple and I cried out, “Jamie, please!”

He moved again, still teasing me and denying himself, “Tell me what ye want, Claire.”

“I want you inside me.”

“Who?” He spread my legs wider with his knee.

I tried to sit up, but he bore down on me, keeping me taught and under his control. “You! Jamie! I want you! Only you!”

He slid between my legs with such force I gasped. I thought I heard him cry out - his face was pressed against my shoulder, but I couldn’t understand it. He was moving with force, purpose, and my hips rose to meet his.

Sweat formed between us. I tried to sit up again, but he wouldn’t let me. I was no match for his strength and I arched my back, desperate for more of him. He slowed his movements and pressed his forehead to mine, “Yer mine, mo neighan donne. Mine.” 

He thrust into me again, hard, and then again, seeming to demand an answer, “Yes!” I cried, “Oh God, yes, Jamie!” He let go of my wrists, pulling my hips flush against him and I dug my nails into his buttocks. He reared up, pressing me into the mattress and spilling himself as he made another guttural sound. I came then, too, the feel of him inside me and his release breaking something within.

We lay there, gasping, our eyes locked. Outside, fat raindrops splattered against the window. There was no shyness between us, but there were still so many things we didn’t know how to say.


	22. Chapter 22

The rain continued, providing a soothing patter of sound. It wasn’t late, but the clouds obscured the sun, making the room dark. I turned to Jamie, running my fingers down the ruddy stubble on his cheek. He turned his head, like a cat, urging me for more. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

His own hand rose and pushed the hair away from my face, “Is that what ye wanted to talk to me about?”

“Yes, and I wanted to tell you that I’m not really divorced.” I added, “The marriage is over, but it’s not official, yet. I should have been more up front about it.” I looked away, somewhat ashamed, even now.

“Did ye think waiting a week was too long?” He was smiling at me, amused.

I puffed my cheeks out, “Well, I…” I didn’t know how to respond. He had a point. That wasn’t the real reason I felt nervous about this, or like a bad person. “Jamie, I am not good at,” I slid my hand down to the muscles of his chest, “this.”

He furrowed his brows, “Why’d ye think that? Because yer gettin’ a divorce?”

There he was, disarming me once again, “No. I don’t think--” Suddenly I wondered if everyone that got a divorce felt like a failure. I didn’t know a lot of divorced people, but I knew how awful it was to watch my friends go through break ups. A divorce was the same, just with more at stake. “Maybe that’s what it is. I’m afraid of going through something like that again.” I felt tears coming on, “And I know I hurt him - my ex, but I didn’t want to. He said a lot of things that made me th--”

“Claire,” Jamie interrupted, “ye canna go around thinking ye won’t hurt people. Sometimes ye do, even if it’s no what ye meant to do.” He pulled me a bit closer. The room was dark enough that his face was mostly awash in shadow. “When I think about the people that hurt me, I think about my mum. She hurt me the most of anyone. But she couldna help it.”

“How?” I asked, confused.

“Because she died.” He shifted a bit and I could feel his chest rise and fall in deep exhalation. “I thought, if she really wanted te, she would’ve fought to stay.” 

He was quiet again, and I pressed forward reluctantly, afraid of re-opening a deep wound, “What did she die of?”

“Breast cancer. She fought it for a long time. Towards the end, she was tired.”

Tears slowly trickled down my cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Jamie.” He pulled me to him, my face nestling into his chest. I wondered if he did it so that I wouldn’t see him cry. He stroked my hair, and then my back, drawing lazy circles with his fingertips. The rain continued and I wondered what time it was. It felt like we’d been suspended and given a peaceful bubble in which to resolve what we’d failed to do earlier. 

It was dark enough that I could no longer make out his face when he began to kiss me, the taste of salt still on my lips. We made love again, silently, gently. 

When at last we lay back, quivering with release, Jamie’s stomach gurgled in hunger. He snorted in the darkness. “I suppose we’d best get dinner. Ye hungry, sassenach?”

“Yes,” I was hungry, my appetite had been missing the past few days and suddenly it was roaring back to life, “but what’s a sassenach?” I hoped it wasn’t something vulgar.

“It means and english person, or outsider. Yer both. Well, for now. I’ll make sure ye know all there is te know about football by the time the season starts.” He stood and began to dress, “How’d ye feel about chicken stew?”

“Chicken stew? Good, I suppose. Do you plan to make some?” My stomach growled a bit at that thought.

“It’s already done. I made a big batch last night and was gonna warm it up again for dinner. Would ye like some?”

I had to remind myself to relax, to enjoy and appreciate this wonderful man. He knew I wasn’t divorced yet, but he still wanted to share a meal, take me to bed, and spend time with me. I choked back some tears, “Yes, I’d love some.”

He bent to kiss me, “Could ye please delete your Tindr profile before I’m mad with jealousy?”

I laughed, “You know, I signed up for it the day I moved in here because I thought you were a player, and just flirted with everyone.”

He quirked his mouth, “Well, I am a player, of football. And I canna help if my charm is too much fer some.” He smacked then squeezed my bottom and I yelped. “That’s what ye get fer calling me a flirt.”

“Hmmm...well you certainly are a FLIRT.” I teased, trying to get him riled up, but this time I rolled back and he fell on top of me, a tangle of sheets and limbs.

“God, yer insatiable, woman.” He looked down, admiring my naked form. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled again, reminding him of his priorities. “We’ll finish this later,” he whispered, and then kissed me on the nose.

I got up and dressed, then followed Jamie down the stairs to his own apartment and watched him re-heating several helpings of stew in a smaller pot. Before I’d gotten home that evening, I’d purchased several bottles of white wine and was pleased to contribute one of them to our meal.

I opened the bottle and we drank and chatted as we waited. Finally, he presented two steaming bowls and two chunks of fresh bread to the table. I waited for him to sit, then took a spoonful into my mouth, “Jamie, this is incredible,” I groaned.

He smiled, “It’s one of my favorites. Beer Braised Chicken Stew with Fava Beans and Peas, “ he recited, as if from a card. “I found it on the internet.”

“I’m so impressed,” I remarked, between bites of bread and spoonfuls of stew. “This is heavenly.”

“It’s expensive keepin’ an athlete fed. Many of us are good cooks fer that reason.” Somehow he was already done with his bowl and was getting up for seconds.

I took another gulp of wine, “Usually it’s the woman’s cooking skills that guarantee a good marriage. I think you might be the exception.”

“Ye thinking of marrying me already?” His expression was mischievous, but he held my gaze a beat too long. He seemed to really want to know the answer to that.

I blushed, and looked down, I’d known this man for little over a week and I was somehow making marriage jokes. Despite my logical brain telling me that I was being ridiculous, I knew that my heart was set. He sat down again, then kicked my toe, still wearing that mischievous expression.

“You can’t trust anything a woman says when she’s hungry.” I was half-heartedly trying to deflect from my earlier openness.

“Hungry? With a half a bottle o’ wine and a bowl of soup in ye?” He took a gulp from his own glass. 

“I haven’t eaten much the past few days!” I dipped my bread into the bowl, getting as much of the broth on it as possible.

“Why no?” He looked at me, concerned.  
“Because I was upset. Frank emailed me and said a lot of things…” I took a sip of my wine.

Jamie put his spoon down, and reached across the table to grip my own hand. He squeezed it and rubbed my hand with his big thumb. Then he met my eyes and with great conviction said, “Fuck Frank.”

I smiled, my tension breaking. He smiled back, then returned to his soup.


	23. Chapter 23

Jamie and I were together. We were an item. It didn’t change anything in my day to day, not really, but it gave me a renewed sense of hope. Somehow, the new job and the change of country alone hadn’t done it. My heart had been broken, and I needed it to be whole again. Jamie was eager to mend it.

We spent most of our time in his apartment - it was nicer, more well-stocked and decorated, though he’d only arrived a month before me. He was used to moving around and nesting. I had been the opposite in my adult life - staying put and finding more comfort in getting to know my new surroundings, not creating a cocoon of familiarity. 

I was eager to really get to know my new city, Glasgow, and my new job with it’s accompanying sport. There were many medical journals that featured articles written by sports doctors. I focused on the ones pertaining to football injuries as well as track and field, creating long lists of them that I would read each day.

Right now, there were more pressing matters to deal with than journal articles, like our plans for Friday night.

“Jamie, don’t you want to go to that dinner Sandringham is having?”

“Och. I dinna feel comfortable going.” He was sitting on his couch fastening compression sleeves along the full length of his legs. It was something new that the players had started doing to help with muscle recovery.

“It could be a good way to network.” I added, “But I don’t like that Jack guy. He’s sinister somehow.”

“He’s a wank. But so is Sandringham.” Jamie lay back into the cushions, letting the contraption work its magic.

“Is Sandringham into bloodsports, too?” I asked, recalling the somewhat chilling conversation I’d had with Mr. Black.

“Huh? I dunno. But he’s always touchin’ me and asking me strange questions.”

“Like, what?” I was genuinely curious and wanted to get a sense of why Jamie was uncomfortable.

Jamie looked away, “He asked me if I had a lass - a new one and I said I did. Then he asked me about us, if we were intimate and I was satisfied…”

“Jamie! That sounds like harassment!” I felt my blood begin to boil over. What kind of question was that for a boss to be asking an employee?

“No, it was nothing like that. He’s just an old pervert.” I thought he was trying to convince me as much as himself with this explanation, so I decided to drop it.

“What did you tell him?”

“I said ye were a wonderful woman and I was lucky to have found ye.” He couldn’t get up with the compression sleeves around his legs so he reached out and gave me a gentle stroke along my arm with the back of his hand. Warmth flooded my belly, quelling my anxiety about the Sandringham situation.

“Will you get into trouble if you don’t go?” I knew that Colum believed in him, but Dougal was still unsure, and if the owner wasn’t pleased with him, for any reason, he could be ousted from the team.

“Dougal doesna like either of them - Sandringham or that Black fellow. Considers ‘em a means to an end. Colum might push me te go. For the team, and te help me for my plans after I quit playin’.”

“Whatever you want to do is fine with me. We can always do something together on Saturday.” I thought it might be nice to explore the city, maybe visit a museum or take a walking tour. I imagined Jamie, with all his energy, would especially enjoy the last option.

“I’ll let Mr. Black know I’m coming, then.” 

After Jamie removed the compression sleeves from his legs, he took me to bed. I’d read about the compression sleeves in one of my many medical journals and knew that their purpose was to increase circulation, thus flushing away metabolic waste from muscle exertion. I was pleased to discover that the benefit applied to body parts not treated directly. 

“Mo neighan donne,” he whispered, then pulled me to him. He fell asleep soon after, his arm draped over my middle and his torso warming my back. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this safe with Frank. I fell asleep soon after, a smile on my lips.


End file.
